The Blade Itself
by PuffPride
Summary: Everything has a price... That was something her mother had told her once, when she was young and had asked why her eyes were different to Sirius'. And now, Lyra had chosen peace over death, and she would never be whole again. RL/OC some SB/MM and JP/LE
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer – any recognisable characters, settings and spells are the property of JK Rowling. The title of the fan fiction is in no way tied to Jo Abercrombe's fantasy novel of the same name.**

 **This fan fic is a rework of my other fic LYRA!**

 **Longer AN at the bottom**

* * *

 **27** **th** **August 1981**

' _I don't know if you've noticed Lily, but Sirius and Lyra are closer than your average pair of twins. All twins share a bond, but you're right . . . this war has always been more personal for them . . . The truth of it is, I don't know what kind of bond they share, but it might just be deeper than any of us could ever imagine.' Remus tried to bury the sinking, hollowing cavern burrowing through him. He tried, the problem was, he didn't think he had anything to fill it with._

* * *

 **1** **st** **November 1981**

 _ **Sirius Black Incarcerated**_

 _1_ _st_ _November 1981_

 _By Anderson Cronkite_

 _Mass-murderer Sirius Black will not face trial after being found at a crime scene where approximately fourteen people were murdered. Among the victims was Peter Pettigrew, one of Black's former school mates at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 _Whether this incident is tied to the events that occurred last month at Fawley Estate, leaving Fawley Manor devastated, to which Black was centrally involved, is yet to be determined._

 _Black faces life imprisonment at Azkaban Wizarding Prison in response to this horrendous crime. Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror office are still investigating the events surrounding the crime and are not ruling out the possibility that this is linked to the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which occurred on the same night._

 _ **Black the Barbaric**_

 _1_ _st_ _November 1981_

 _By Ruvea Skeeta_

 _On a night that should have been a celebrated one world-wide following the fall of You-Know-Who, it will now forever be marred by the mass-murder of thirteen muggles and one wizard. The culprit, one Sirius Black, was arrested immediately following the attack by the Auror team._

 _Exact details are still yet to be determined, but having gained inside knowledge from a source within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement itself, it can now be said with some certainty that Sirius Black had been a member of You-Know-Who's inner circle. This may not be all that surprising considering the family's sordid history concerning the Dark Arts._

 _Black's rage may have been fueled by the events that transpired just last month, or it may have been orchestrated by Black who we now know was conspiring with You-Know-Who. One thing is for certain, Sirius Black, considering all that he has done, and all the more that he might have been involved in doing, should never be allowed to see past the hood of a dementor again._

* * *

 **December 1977**

Sirius couldn't stand still, he rattled the door handle furiously. Dread, cold and heavy like wet cement, started to harden in his stomach. A fear had gripped him . . . fear that had him panting, had him sweating, he could feel every bead of it slide down his face . . . it was a fear at a level he'd never felt before. Sure there'd been a couple of times during the full moon when Moony had almost got away from them, but that had always had a rush of adrenaline, of fun, in it. There was nothing but horror now. If he stopped, even for a moment, he'd be stuck, helpless forever.

Sirius slammed his fists against the door, screwing his eyes shut tight as he tried to think of anything else instead of the horrendous pictures that kept flashing one after the other in his mind.

He hadn't heard anything since he'd awoken, lying bruised and bloodied on his bedroom floor ten minutes earlier. The door across the hall being slammed shut was what had jolted him awake and pulling at the door handle in the first place. The affinity his parents had for using silencing charms on closed doors always made him frantic beyond comprehension. But this . . . this time it was different. Frantic didn't do what he was feeling justice.

Sirius stood, legs shaking, head against his bedroom door, he tried to focus his thoughts, but his mind was blank . . . O _f course it is. What a perfect time for me to become a complete and utter idiot._

Suddenly his panting flickered. Of course! How could he have forgotten! Running over to his trunk he tossed aside old books and clothes he hadn't bothered to give to Kreacher until he spotted a glint of silver. His heart felt lighter and heavier at the same time as he withdrew the small knife from the mess that was his trunk.

Running over to the door, he stuck the knife in the key hole and twisted until it clicked and swung towards him. With his wand in one hand and the knife in the other, Sirius crossed the narrow, dark hallway, not bothering to look if anyone was lurking in the shadows. In some distant part of his mind he registered that a shouting match was being had from somewhere downstairs.

'Lyra!' He banged on the door as hard as he could . . . It didn't move an inch. There was nothing but silence on the other side. Sirius shoved the knife into the door's keyhole, rushing into the room as soon as it clicked open.

At first everything seemed to mesh into one great blurred scene, like a painting of a gruesome scene that's colours had started to bleed into one another: A girl lying on the brown floor, white skin, black hair and red . . . so much red everywhere . . . There was red pooling on the floor around her, staining her hands, soaking through the front of her shirt. But where there was a river of red, there was also far too much white when Sirius looked at her face.

Lyra's face was white, sleeked with a film of sweat and unmoving, even when Sirius gripped her chin. 'Lyra! Lyra, can you hear me?' She didn't even so much as flinch.

He looked around the room, Lyra's bookshelf had great chunks of wood missing, books lay scattered and torn around the room. Some had drops of red on them, others were striped with it. Her eagle feathered quill and ink set had been knocked onto the bed, the dark ink streaking the white sheets like great tears. The night stand had fallen to the floor, the lamp that had been sitting on it now lay in pieces, glass like pebbles on the wood. It was a scene of complete destruction.

'That's it,' Sirius said through a painfully clenched jaw, 'we're leaving.' He flicked his wand and looked back to Lyra as everything that hadn't been destroyed flew into her trunk. Sirius quickly scanned his sister. There were dark red and purple bruises around her neck, a long cut tore down the length of her left arm, the skin there shredded and ripped open, it was oozing blood slowly but steadily. Sirius stopped and outright balked when he reached her stomach, where the blood was heaviest. Grabbing a scarf off the bed, he tied it tightly around her middle.

With one last tug of the scarf he flicked his wand again and Lyra's trunk flew towards him, shrinking as it flew across the room. He caught it, stuffed it in his pocket and lifted his sister as carefully as he could off the bloodied floor. Her head lolled against his chest.

He was halfway to his own door when a figure emerged from a doorway further down the hall.

'Sirius! What's going . . .' Regulus stopped at the sight of his sister, of the blood covering her and now seeping into Sirius' own shirt. His eyes widened, colour draining from his face. 'What happened!?'

Sirius ignored him. He didn't have time for anyone's false concerns. He placed Lyra down on his bed as gently as he could before flicking his wand, this time _his_ belongings were flying around the room, placing themselves haphazardly into his trunk.

'She's hurt!' Regulus had followed them into Sirius' room and came to hover at Sirius' bedside. He only looked around the room when one of Sirius' books hit his leg on its way to the trunk. 'What are you doing?'

'What does it look like?' Sirius growled as he went over to his desk, searching through it's drawers. The only thing he could hear was his blood rushing through his veins.

His heart beat loudly in his ears. He could almost swear it's rapid rhythm screamed _Not long. Not long. Not long_ . . . Not long now and they'd both be free. But first he had to find – ha! He grabbed the parchment from the desk's middle drawer and stowed it deep into his back pocket – he'd be damned if he left without the thing he'd come home for in the first place.

Regulus' ramblings had remained a constant splutter in the background.

'But – But you can't!'

The trunk in the corner clicked shut, shrank and flew into Sirius' open hand. He hastily shoved it into his pocket besides Lyra's. By the time he'd returned to the bed Regulus' voice had grown firmer and louder.

'Sirius, you can't!' Regulus went to stand in front of his brother but Sirius grabbed onto the younger boy's shirt collar, pulling him in so that he could see the panic clearly in his eyes, their noses a hairsbreadth away from touching.

'What can't I do Regulus!?' Sirius growled, angry red sparks spat from his wand's tip. 'Because what I _can't_ do any longer is to stay in this – this _house_ and watch her get hurt anymore.' He pushed his younger brother away so roughly that Regulus' back hit the wall. Sirius turned and lifted his sister off the bed. 'We're leaving,' he snarled as he passed a stunned looking Regulus.

The walk down to the ground floor was the longest journey of Sirius' life. He tried to keep to the shadows as much as he could and paused every time he heard so much as what could have been a creak of a floor board.

The shouting match was still being fought. He could only distinguish phrases, most of them in his mother's high-pitched shrill shrieking voice.

' _Do you realise what you've done?!'_

' _We weren't meant to hurt her!'_

And to what would have been his surprise, had it not been for the shock he was immersed in, Sirius heard his father shout back.

' _Not even that strong!'_

' _She's unnatural!'_

' _This is all your doing!'_

Sirius started to breathe a little easier when he entered the entrance hallway and caught sight of the front door. The appearance of the thick wooden door was enough to drown out all other sights and sounds.

 _Not long. Not long. Not long._

He was mere feet from the door – from freedom – when a flash of purple light soared past his head catching the lantern hanging on the wall beside the door. It exploded, spraying glass everywhere.

Sirius ducked as another stream of light narrowly missed him. He shut his eyes briefly as the sound of wood splintering detonated through the hall.

'How dare you try to sneak out of this house!' Walburga Black's shrieked, slightly demonic as she hurled curse after curse at her son.

His back now to the door, Sirius had no choice but to avoid his mother's onslaught. Both of his hands were busy keeping Lyra close to him – her impassive face impossibly coming paler – his wand was stuffed in his back pocket. Sirius flinched as a picture frame hanging behind him blew up. A shard of glass caught his top lip and the taste of blood quickly followed.

'How dare you try to smuggle _her_ out with you!' Walburga's advances were coming dangerously fast now. Sirius barely had time to react as he ducked, swerved and flinched away from the barrage of curses. 'Orion, he's taking her!'

Sirius felt his heart stumble when his back hit the door, the handle digging into his back. His mind whirled at what he was about to do, but with his mother's infuriated cries in front of him, her curses flying around him and his freedom now firmly behind him, he had no other choice. Walburga was raising her wand, getting ready for another attack, when Sirius quickly turned around and fumbled with the door handle.

The air that hit his face almost made him let out a victory cry. He only caught a glimpse of the muggle world outside before he let out a strangled cry. His legs almost gave way as pain tore down the back of his right leg.

The last things he recognised before he was sucked into the tunnel of apparition was his mother's voice, disinheriting her eldest children, the pain in his leg that had him close to tears and the small, fragile, white and red girl in his arms, who had the tears that had threatened to spill from before come streaming down his cheeks.

And then there was nothing . . . nothing but the sound of a family of birds in a nearby tree and children laughing out of sight down the street. As soon as his head stopped spinning enough that he could stand without swaying violently, he faced the modest two-storey house, the Christmas lights still lining the roof.

'James . . . James . . . James!' He screamed and screamed and screamed until the front door opened. James and Remus stood on the threshold.

They were by his side in a heartbeat, Remus taking Lyra as Sirius fell, the pain in his leg, the exhaustion over what had just happened, finally taking over. James grabbed Sirius by the arms before he had a chance to hit the cement. The Black twins were ushered inside and had barely made it two feet into the house before Mr and Mrs Potter were upon them.

Dorea and Charlus were quick to slip into their professional mannerisms. They'd deal with the horror they both felt later. They ushered the teenagers into the lounge room, Sirius, leaning heavily into James, flung himself into the first chair he stumbled upon. Dorea quickly set to work inspecting his leg which was now drenched in thick, dark blood.

Sirius fidgeted in the seat, trying to look at Lyra over Dorea's shoulder. Remus had placed her on the lounge, Charlus hovering over her, removing the scarf from her middle and almost blanching when fresh blood spilled out over her already soaked shirt.

'Hold still, dear,' Dorea told Sirius firmly, holding Sirius to the chair with surprising strength.

Sirius would've sat still if Charlus hadn't let out a strangled, frustrated, infuriating growl. 'That insidious bastard!'

Sirius went to stand but yelped, his leg instantly collapsing under the pressure. Charlus had cut through her shirt and exposed Lyra's stomach, it was riddled with long, thick, impossibly deep slashes. They ran impossibly deep, the blood that slipped out from them was dark, Sirius couldn't distinguish wound from skin.

'What's wrong?' Dorea's voice was no longer firm but urgent. Sirius tried to ignore the sliver of panic that made the question wobble ever so slightly.

'He's used Dark Magic on his own daughter!'

Sirius caught James' eye. He had never seen his friend looking so scared, so unsure. He stood beside his kneeling mother, looking from her, to Sirius, to his father, and back again. Remus however was fixed on one thing and one thing only. His grip on Lyra's hand visibly tightened as the young girl suddenly stirred and started screaming in agony – a strangled cry that pierced Sirius like a twisting knife through the heart.

'Dorea! I need your help!' Charlus' yelled over Lyra's screaming. 'He's tricked it.' He told his wife as she appeared by his side, leaving Sirius stranded in the armchair. 'Every time I try to seal the wound it works itself deeper.'

It took hours . . . hours for Dorea and Charlus, two fully grown wizards – an ex-Auror and an ex- Healer – to stifle the bleeding coming from the wounds across Lyra's stomach. It was a crude patch up job but the Dark Magic used by an even darker man was not easily undone.

After every passing minute, Sirius felt the weight in his chest grow and grow and he was certain that if he just got to Lyra then it would go away. If he just got to his sister then this nightmare would be over, he'd wake up panting in his bed at the Potters, slick with sweat, a pounding headache the only reminder of this god-damned nightmare.

There were a number of things Sirius took careful note of in that unearthly long afternoon.

He noticed every beat of his heart – how each one was like a warning that the next one would never come.

He watched every breath his sister took, fearing the same warning was true for her. He flinched through every one of her long screams and heaved a long sigh after each one had ended.

He kept an eye on James who looked ready to faint at the sight of his bruised and bloodied and tortured friends, but whose eyes shone with undisguised admiration as he watched his parents work in complete harmony.

And Sirius watched on as Remus gripped Lyra's hand, muttering for her to hold on, to hold on just a little longer. Remus never looked at anyone else throughout the whole ordeal.

Later, when the candles of the house had been dimmed and doused . . . when James and Remus had retreated to the former's room . . . when Mr and Mrs Potter spoke in hushed voices behind closed doors . . . when Lyra's breathing had finally, finally returned to deep, even inhales and exhales as she rested in a single bed in one of the Potter's guest bedrooms and when Sirius lay in the bed adjacent to hers – watching her chest rise and fall – he finally let out a long shuddering breath and allowed himself to be devoured by the silent black that he knew was only a brief respite from the harrowing future he and his sister were now destined to live.

But even he wasn't safe in the darkness. And all too quickly, reality invaded.

' _Enough with your excuses! Despite your most ardent beliefs, I am_ not _oblivious to everything that goes on within my own house!'_

 _Sirius knew it was dangerous. There were a great many things he could do within this house that could put him in potential danger, but listening to his parents engage in what could only be described as an intense argument (his parents – along with all other polite pureblood families –_ never _argued, as Sirius had been reminded on multiple occasions throughout his childhood), was decidedly more reckless than usual, even for him._

 _And he_ had _been intending on turning around and retreating to his room and finish packing. This was only supposed to be a short visit. Get in, get what he came for and leave. If it hadn't been for the surprise dinner his parents had arranged then he would have left days ago like he'd planned with James._

 _James was a good friend, his best friend – his brother – but he tended to worry to the point of recklessness. Chances were that he would have mounted a full-scale rescue mission if he hadn't received Sirius' letter telling him about the delay._

 _That damned dinner._

 _It had been days since it happened. He'd had days to think about it, to try and decipher it, to figure out exactly what had taken place over the last course of that meal. Dayss of endless thinking and he was still just as confused, just as angry as he had been when it had happened. Maybe his parents were now finally going to let it slip, they might finally be about to explain just what it was that Madam Rosier was talking about that night._

' _Orion, I have no possible idea what runs through the minds of everyone who comes into this house.' Walburga's biting voice was rising with every word. 'Our eldest son should be proof enough of that!'_

 _Sirius gritted his teeth at this slight. There were more important things to focus on than the well-known hatred his parents had for him._

' _It is not our eldest son that I was referring to … neither was Madam Rosier that night, if my translation of the situation is to be relied upon.' Where Walburga's voice rose, Orion's voice was being drawn lower, like a bucket into the well of his formidable fury. 'Why is it that I always get the impression that everyone knows much more about my own blood than I?'_

 _Sirius heard Walburga scoff. 'You've never taken an active interest in her before. Why now?'_

 _Up till this moment Sirius had been merely curious, now his curiosity mixed with worry, water and oil starting to swirl in his chest._

' _I am interested in what interests others. I am simply attempting to uncover what the Rosier's find so interesting in something I have hitherto dismissed.' There was a pregnant pause, Sirius wasn't sure if anyone on the other side of the door was breathing – he wasn't too sure_ he _was breathing. 'What interests_ you _about her, Walburga?'_

' _Other than the fact that she's my daughter?' Sirius was sure that Walburga had meant the question to be just as biting as her previous comments, but he could hear her waiver, even if it was the smallest possible amount. He tried not to scoff at the obviousness of the lie._

' _You really think I am a simpleton, don't you?' Orion asked, his voice full of venom. 'I have heard the rumours, ever since they were born I have heard them. I chose to ignore them thus far because I have reassured myself that my wife could never be that foolish. She knows better than that, I told myself when I caught them whispering. She would never associate with the people required to be able to carry out what they've said you did. You would not taint our bloodline, a bloodline that has remained pure and strong for so many centuries, on such an irrevocable level.'_

 _Sirius heard the squeal of a chair leg being dragged across the wooden floor boards of his father's study and it took all his strength not to jump at the sudden noise. He took a half step closer to the door so that his cheek was almost pressed flush against it._

' _Perhaps I have been wrong.' Orion's voice was almost at a whisper now. 'You've always been an ambitious woman, Walburga. At times so focussed are you on your goal that it flirts with the point of brutality. I have always admired this about you. But,' a short yelp was suddenly stifled and Sirius' hand instinctively flew to the door handle, 'if I have discovered that you have used this ability to turn this family into a magnet for ridicule and scandal, if that girl should be anything other than a disappointment, just like her brother, then …'_

' _Master Black should not be spying.'_

 _Sirius whirled around so fast he was momentarily dizzy. Kreacher stood not two meters from him, his wide eyes glowering up at him._

 _Sirius moved toward him, 'Kreacher, wait . . .'_

 _But he was too slow. Kreacher popped out of sight before Sirius had the chance to take another step and the next second his scratchy voice was coming from the other side of the study door._

 _Sirius didn't have time to turn and run back to his room before the door opened. Orion Black, in all his towering, twisted rage, glared daggers at his eldest son._

Sirius jolted into awareness. The image of a clawing hand reaching for his throat burnt the insides of his eyelids. He jumped again when he realised that there was a figure kneeling at the side of his bed. Somehow, he knew who it was even in the dark and the moonlight.

'Did you get it?' James whispered.

Sirius blinked, his mind – still reeling from his memories – was slow to realise what James meant. When the confusion lifted though, Sirius pointed to a dark mass on the floor next to the bed. It was the clothes he'd been wearing this afternoon, clothes that were now torn and bloodied beyond recognition.

James scooped them up and handed them to Sirius. As carefully as he could – the muscles throughout his entire body seemed to be bathed in soreness and pain – Sirius found the back pocket of his jeans. He reached in and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He laid back into his pillows, clutching the parchment like it was his only tether on life.

'Got it,' he said before closing his eyes, letting the darkness pull him away again.

* * *

 **Okay, so this story is a rewrite of my other story LYRA. For anyone stumbling upon this for the first time, welcome! I came up with (a version of) this first chapter on a whim about a year ago and didn't really mean to continue with it, but I have and here we are.**

 **Each chapter will begin with a snippet from a much later chapter, feel free to try and decipher them and guess what/who they may be about. I know there are going to be some obvious AU moments – Sirius being disowned in seventh year for example instead of sixth ext. – but I do want to try and stick to cannon as much as possible (but we'll see how that turns out).**

 **I've got the first eleven chapters of this reworked version ready to go so I'll be updating weekly whilst I work on the remaining chapters before I start continuing on with the story past the previous seventeen chapters. If you used to follow LYRA please read this story as there are extra scenes that weren't in LYRA.**

 **Thanks if you've reached this far and I really am excited to continue with this story and one day click the** _ **completed**_ **button.**

 **Please leave any thoughts you may have and the next chapter will be up next week!**

 **Next chapter – We see just what was going on in Remus' head ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**First off a BIG THANK YOU to everyone who left a review and many thanks for everyone who has favourited/followed this story.**

 **There's a longer AN at the bottom so I won't keep you waiting . . .**

* * *

 **October 1981**

 _He didn't think they'd go so far. They told him they wouldn't. That had been their deal . . . That in itself was a laugh. The fact that a deal was being offered in the first place should have been a warning. The fact that he'd agreed showed himself and everyone else just how weak, how desperate he'd been. They took advantage of him, just as he knew they would . . . He'd believed them. He'd let them destroy him._

* * *

 **December 1977**

He should have seen it coming. He knew it was only a matter of time before _something_ happened. But this? Had he really readied himself for the possibility of so much pain?

As the rest of the house lay dark and quiet, Remus could only blink up at the roof. He'd uttered his last words of the day an eternity ago. He had said them to James, who, from the soft yet uneven breathing coming from the other side of the room, seemed to be just as awake as Remus was now.

Their last words to each other hadn't been ones of well wishes, of wishing pleasant dreams. No, the days of such sentiments were well and truly behind them now.

James had gotten up from his bed and left the room some time ago. Remus assumed it was to go get a glass of water . . . maybe it was to just walk, to do something other than laying still, letting the memories of the day hang over him.

No matter how much Remus thought he'd prepared himself for all the realities of life, nothing could have prepared him for hearing the desperate, harrowing way in which Sirius had called for James that afternoon. And nothing, _nothing_ could have prepared him for the sight that met them at the end of those cries.

Blood . . . so much blood. Remus was used to blood, from him and occasionally from the other Marauders after their full moon adventures. But not this much, not the amount that had painted Sirius' right leg that oozed in thick coats from the jagged gash that tore down its length. But even that was nothing compared to the amount coming from what Sirius held in his shaking arms.

Lyra.

Remus was sure that that was the only thing repeating itself over and over in his mind, like a ominous refrain.

 _Lyra, Lyra, Lyra._

The next hours were a blur. A slow-motion tumult of painful cries, hurried voices, curses, shouts and tears . . . Of Mr Potter telling him to hold her down as she writhed and screamed out in pain . . . of hearing nothing, feeling nothing, but for the rasping, rattling sounds of her breath, and the skin of her hand on his, dripping with sweat and far too cold.

There seemed to be some time missing. One second he had been taking Lyra from Sirius in the sunlight as the boy collapsed against James' shoulder, the next thing he was carrying her again, this time guided by Mrs Potter as Remus brought Lyra to the first-floor guest bedroom.

She was too quiet, too still. Remus longed for her to say something, do anything – a flutter of an eyelid, a stir of the head . . . anything. Because then he'd know she was alright, he'd know that he was worrying for no reason. 'As per usual,' she would say. But she just lay there, unmoving on the bed and he didn't realise how long he'd been standing over her, watching her.

 _Lyra, Lyra, Lyra._

Mrs Potter had gently removed Lyra's blood soaked clothes and exchanged them for clean, fresh pyjamas. She, with the help of Remus, had tucked Lyra into the bed, lifting the covers around the girl, placing her injured arms on top. As she passed, Dorea placed a consoling hand on Remus' arm. Or it would have been if he'd noticed it.

 _Lyra, Lyra_.

'For Merlin's sake, Sirius!'

Sirius?

It was like being dowsed in a bucket of iced water, awareness ran through Remus' skin and strangled his insides.

His feet took him thoughtlessly back into the Potter's sitting room.

Sirius, pale and sweaty and covered in blood, sat in the armchair he had fallen into when he'd arrived, but it was clear that he no longer had any wishes to remain there.

James was holding onto Sirius, he pushed down on one shoulder whilst his father pushed down on the other. Remus could do nothing other than watch.

'It's okay, Sirius! Lyra's okay!' James said through clenched teeth, all his remaining energy going in to keeping Sirius sitting.

'Like hell she is!' Sirius' voice was terrifying, it was hoarse and hollow but it came out in a fierce growl that did nothing to melt the ice pounding through Remus' veins.

'Hold him still, Charlus!'

Mrs Potter knelt on the floor by Sirius' feet. She held her wand out steady, ducking and weaving, obviously trying to get to the gaping wound running the down Sirius' leg. But Sirius was outright thrashing now.

Remus jumped when a flash of red light hit Sirius squarely in the chest and the boy slumped, unconscious, his head lolling to one side.

James gave Remus a terrified look, shiny with worry and fear, whilst Dorea huffed a thank you to her husband. Remus hadn't even noticed that Charlus had moved away from Sirius in order to cast the stunning spell.

Dorea and Charlus then set about to fixing Sirius' wounds. His leg took top priority but there was plenty else to occupy them, the least of all was a nasty purple bruise on the side of his head.

James had let go of Sirius as soon as he saw the stunner coming. Looking dazed and unfocussed, James left the room in silence. Remus followed behind him into Charlus' study.

Without talking, James found an old and battered looking book on the bookshelf. He lowered it on its side gently. The book grew until it took up the entire corner of the shelf on which it sat, where the title used to be, a handle had grown. James took hold and lifted the spine of the book, revealing a secret compartment. He extracted a bottle of Firewhiskey from its depths and walked to his father's desk, filling the tumblers Remus had found in the bottom shelf half way. Taking one for himself, James pushed the other one towards Remus before falling back into one of the high-backed chairs.

At some point in the afternoon the two boys were joined by James' parents. They poured themselves each a glass before lowering themselves into the two remaining chairs around the table. Silence fell over the room like a thick, impenetrable fog.

'Did either of you know?'

Mr Potter's voice came to Remus as if he were underwater, it was muffled, sluggish.

Looking across to James, Remus wasn't sure the bespectacled boy was capable of speaking, he wasn't sure he was either. All the muscles within him seemed to have vanished. The mere thought of talking was exhausting.

'Not this much,' James croaked, swallowing thickly before taking another sip of his Firewhiskey.

Remus nodded in agreement. Between Sirius' sarcasm and Lyra's shrugs, it was true that none of them had realised that their home life had become this bad. He'd had a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach ever since Sirius suggested returning to his parent's house for the holidays. But the twins had been determined.

They'd all talked about it at length – the twins with the other Marauders. Remus hadn't liked it much, neither had James or Peter for that matter, but what could they do?

'Just this one last time.' That's what Sirius had told them. Lyra had nodded along beside him, her lips pursed in determination – she wasn't going to be talked out of this. Remus should have tried. He should have pulled her aside after . . . he should have convinced her how foolish their plan was . . . he should have convinced her to talk Sirius out of going through with it.

But he knew what she would have said. She would have said that this was all that stood in her way. If they could do this, if they could go back into that house one last time, then she would be free. And instead of him convincing her not to go through with it, she would have convinced him that it was the only way.

He still should have tried. His stomach churned at the memory of all that blood. But they were supposed to have arrived back from Grimmauld Place two days ago – the day before Christmas. That had been the plan. They'd been wondering what had been taking them so long . . . Not that they were wondering any longer.

He should have tried.

Charlus rubbed his face and Remus fleetingly wondered how long it had been since the man had so many wrinkles about his face.

Remus desperately wanted to ask the question that had slowly become his new mantra. Still, he found he couldn't open his mouth long enough to do anything other than take another sip from his glass. And he didn't know whether to tense or to relax when James voiced that mantra.

'How bad . . .' He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish.

Now it was Dorea's turn to shuffle in her seat. She gave a short, soft sigh before leaning forwards, looking firmly between the two boys. 'I'm not going to lie to either of you.'

Remus' chest squeezed painfully.

'If the last few hours have proved anything to me it's that both of you can handle the reality of this.' She turned to look out into the hall before addressing them again. 'They're both stable. I expect Sirius to regain consciousness later this evening and when that happens he'll need your support.' She was clear – firm but heartfelt and understanding, the perfect blend for a Healer dealing with a sensitive case. 'Because I don't expect that Lyra will be waking up anytime soon.'

 _Lyra, Lyra, Lyra._

The words, that tragic melody, had returned. And it was deafening.

As Dorea turned her Healer's gaze on him, she saw something in his face that had that detached, clam mask melt slightly.

'She _will_ wake up, Remus,' she assured him. 'But she's still critical and she's going to have a pretty tough recovery.' Her throat bobbed, the only sign of difficulty on her end. 'Dark Magic isn't exactly designed for quick healing.'

XXXXXX

It was a while before the group silently split up and left the study, leaving the nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey sitting forgotten on the desk.

Mr Potter left the house under the pretext of doing some work in the shed. Remus spotted him soon afterwards waving his wand in a rather complicated pattern around the perimeter of the house. No doubt reinforcing the estate's protection. For some reason this did not make Remus feel any better, in fact, it may have made him feel worse.

James retreated to his room upstairs, Remus thought about following him but he had the sneaking suspicion that James would be writing Lily.

Mrs Potter went straight to the guest bedroom. Initially, Remus had made to follow her. He made it a meter from the door when he stopped abruptly. The memory of the blood-soaked twins held his legs still. Steadying his breathing, he willed the vision to vanish.

Sirius was awake when Remus entered the room. The raven-haired boy had rolled onto his side and was watching, unblinking, as Mrs Potter checked over Lyra. Mrs Potter took a jar from the bedside table, unscrewed it and applied a thick, pink paste to a cut running along Lyra's right arm and to a few cuts that littered her face.

Those cuts on her pale skin seemed to taunt him, they screamed at him. He turned to look at Sirius instead.

He doubted his friend even realised Mrs Potter was in the room let alone recognising Remus' presence. From the looks of it, Sirius might have been in a trance, he may even have been in shock from the way he was staring. That was until a single tear leaked from Sirius' eye and trailed down his cheek.

Remus turned away from him too. But suddenly, there was nowhere else to look.

XX

The last thing that ran through Remus' head before sleep finally took him was that this may have been the longest day of his life.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

'What do you mean "they left"?'

Regulus tried as hard as he could to meet the hard stare of Lucius Malfoy, which proved a difficult thing despite the older man's face being so close to his. A small trembling part of him was regretting ever coming to Malfoy Manor in the first place. But it was a very small part and the part of him that felt duty-bound to report what had just happened had easily overpowered it.

'My mother tried to stop him, but,'

'And what were you doing during all this?' Malfoy glared at him from across the table, his hands still pressed hard into the polished wood of the table.

'I tried to stop him as well!' Regulus tried again, starting to get frustrated by Malfoy's dismissiveness. He was all too aware however of the lack of conviction in his own voice. He had tried to stop Sirius, when he had been in his bedroom, watching his brother prepare to leave and to take Lyra with him. Regulus had followed Sirius down the hall, after he had gathered his wits, but he still remembered how he'd frozen half way down the steps as he watched his mother unleash hell on her own son.

'I don't give a damn about your pathetic excuse of a brother, Black!' Lucius growled at him. 'And neither will the Dark Lord. You should've stopped him from taking _her_!'

'He never would have left her there!' Regulus' calm broke, finally. This whole conversation was a pointless waste of time. He couldn't think of any situation in which Sirius would've left the house whilst also leaving Lyra behind. The faster Malfoy accepted that fact the better it would be for the both of them. 'What does she have to do with anything anyway?'

Lucius held his stern gaze for another moment before sighing, leaning away and slumping back down in his chair. He ran a hand over his pale, pointed face, it came to rest over his eyes.

'Where are they now? I thought you said they usually spent the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts? Why return home now?'

Regulus thought it best not to provoke him further, he focussed on the question he could answer confidently. 'My guess is that he fled to the Potters. But their house is one of the most protected dwellings in Britain, trying to penetrate it would be pointless.'

Lucius got up and strode over to the side table, he poured himself a honey coloured syrupy drink, sighing while he did it. 'What in Merlin's name were your parents thinking, Regulus.' He put the stopper back in the crystal decanter and returned to the table. A wide-eyed Regulus watched him cross the room.

'What will _he_ do to them?'

'I'm not sure,' Lucius took a sip. 'If they were within arm's reach, I have no doubt that he would punish them on the spot.' Seeing the relief that overcame Regulus, Lucius said, louder this time, 'But that does not mean that he won't seek them out and punish them later, you should be thankful that your family's house is well hidden. The fact that you have confided in me your desire to take the mark soon may just be enough to save you from punishment, but you will have to prove yourself, your worth to the Dark Lord and his cause.' Regulus was just about to release the breath he had been holding until Lucius spoke again, softer this time, as if he was speaking to himself. 'We'll just have to wait until they return to Hogwarts.'

Regulus tried to keep his breathing steady as he tried again. 'Why her?'

Lucius considered him for a moment. 'You're right,' Regulus furrowed his brow but Lucius continued, not noticing. 'Apart from being sorted into Gryffindor as well, she didn't even come close to being as noteworthy as your unfortunate brother.' He paused again. 'Let's just say that the Dark Lord has come across some information regarding her and is most eager in having it confirmed.'

Regulus didn't need any more explanation. He knew exactly what kind of information the Dark Lord might have stumbled upon regarding his siblings. But they were rumours. They were nothing but unsubstantiated gossip spread by jealous pureblood housewives and then perpetuated in order to cover up disappointments. The Dark Lord couldn't possibly believe any of them, surely. If he did though, that meant that his sister might be in a terrible amount of danger, as well as his mother.

'And you might have a role play in that, Regulus,' Lucius pointed a finger to him, pulling Regulus out of his disbelieving stupor. 'The Dark Lord is not often denied what he desires, and when he is, he doesn't stop until he gets it.'

* * *

 **Okay so I realise this chapter was a lot shorter than the first and I haven't changed much from the second chapter in Lyra, but I just like Remus' POV so much that I didn't want to risk too much by messing with it.**

 **If there's ever anyone's POV who you want to see more of than just let me know, and I'll ty my best to explore a little more.**

 **Well, until next time, thanks and please remember to leave a review, they really make my day and push me to write more!**

 **Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**So I thought that I'd up the update rates seeing as I have everything up till Chapter 12 ready to go.**

 **Not much has changed with this one . . . Chapter four is going to be the start of the major differences but I've tried not to stray from the original plot line.**

 **Thanks again for everyone who's taken the time to review and I hope you all like this one :)**

* * *

 _After everything they'd been through, she supposed Sirius and Lyra could have ended up a lot worse. Perhaps it would be best to have it looked into though. Maybe something could be done. Maybe Lyra could get help._

* * *

'Told you it'd work.' Sirius tried to get his lips to twitch, tried to make it so that his voice didn't sound so heavy. It wasn't working.

James' expression was annoyingly impassive, but Sirius was too tired to get angry or frustrated, in fact the energy he'd have to muster up to simply get irked wouldn't be worth the effort . . . Having this conversation was barely worth the effort. Actually, if Sirius were being entirely honest with himself, he hadn't found much that was worth the effort the last two days.

He was drained in every sense of the word. It was as if he'd spent too long out in the cold. The tips of his fingers were permanently numb and his eyelids were so heavy that every blink bore the threat of slipping into a deep sleep.

The fact that she hadn't moved in two days wasn't helping matters.

Sirius had refused to move beyond the door to the room where Lyra was being kept. He couldn't leave her, not while she was like this.

He'd told Mrs Potter as much when the suggestion of his moving into James' room was made. His objection grew after he was advised that he'd have to stay in bed once he was up there. If it was the option of lying in bed in a room by himself or one where he could watch over her, he'd choose the latter.

Sirius assumed that Mrs Potter hadn't pushed the matter because she believed that he was merely playing the role of the concerned brother. And he _was_ concerned, of course he was, his concern was a painful ever-present throb lodged between his ribs. But he didn't feel it completely necessary to tell her that the real reason he preferred to stay with Lyra was because he didn't know what state she'd be in when she finally regained consciousness.

It scared him too much to think about.

No, it was best if he stayed close by, it was best if he was the first one she saw . . . and the first one who saw her.

He looked away from James – who continued to stand there, frowning down at him – looked across the room and once again began to catalogue the progress of her various wounds.

Whatever that pink salve of Mrs Potter's was, it was working miracles. The small cuts to Lyra's face had completely disappeared. The long, deep cut to her arm had already scabbed and was in the process of flaking off, making way for a long, thin, raised white scar to emerge.

The wounds on her stomach were covered most of the time, but Mrs Potter came in regularly to change her dressings and apply more of the salve. And every time she exposed them for him to see Sirius had to supress a shudder of horror and rage.

Finally, James sighed and sat down next to him.

'You were supposed to have arrived days ago.'

Indeed, that had been the plan, Remus, Sirius, Lyra and James were to spend Christmas and the rest of the holidays at the Potter's. Peter was with his mother, visiting relatives abroad . . . Merlin wouldn't they have a story to tell him when they returned to Hogwarts.

Except Sirius had never shown, because he had been at home, trying to stop his parents from killing her, from killing him.

His skin flushed with itchy heat and he supressed a growl.

'I know,' Sirius said as calmly as he could.

From his peripheral, he could see James running a nervous hand through his already dishevelled hair. After a few, slightly tense moments, the bespectacled boy sighed again.

'Well you're here now, that's all that matters really. Right?' He clapped Sirius on the shoulder and stood up. 'I'm going to see where Moony's got to, wanna come?'

Sirius had to dig deep to be able to shake his head. 'Go ahead.'

James appeared to accept defeat relatively quickly this time and left the room.

Now that the only source of distraction had left, there was nothing to keep the shards of memory at bay.

Horrified screams and pleads polluted the now still and silent air of the Potter's guest bedroom. They grew steadily louder, closer, thicker, ringing painfully around his head. The sound of his own name being called out in such panic and fear wrapped itself around his throat and squeezed, squeezed until he could no longer sit still.

Standing suddenly, blinking rapidly, he limped from the room, leaving the silence behind him.

There was no point in re-living it. They had escaped that place, finally, he wouldn't allow his mind to remain trapped there as well. All of it was over. Or maybe it wasn't, maybe this was just a brief break in the storm, a fleeting respite where he could take a few deep breaths before he'd be struggling for air once more.

He would have been happy to enjoy this momentary victory. Except for when he looked across the room and saw her lying there red-hot anger coursed like lava into his throat. It was in these moments – that, more often than not, occurred when Mrs Potter would come to check on Lyra's progress – that had him questioning just what his first words to her would be.

'That's not what I meant Dorea!'

Sirius faltered, looking around. He was outside the Potter's library. Unusually, the door was closed. Normally it would be kept open, as was the case with most of the doors in this house. Since his arrival, however, Sirius had noticed the increased numbers of shut doors.

'But there's only so much we can do before our hands become tied.'

'Can't you at least conduct a raid on that house?'

Sirius was fairly confident he knew who's house the Potters were talking about. He supposed he should feel somewhat optimistic, what with being in the house of the old head of the Auror department and all, but the truth, the reality of the situation, bore down on him like a pressing weight on his chest.

And he knew he shouldn't have been listening in on a private conversation like a sneak in the dark, again, but he just didn't have the energy to move on. He'd never be able to decide whether it was curiosity that kept him there or exhaustion that kept him from leaving. None of that mattered, however, for when the pressing weight lessened, he found that the voices on the other side of the door had eased too, serving a shift in topic.

'Well, Sirius' leg is still on the mend.'

Sirius' attention snagged on the sound of his name.

'I'd prefer it if he stayed in bed and didn't use it for a while but –'

'But we both know how useless it would be to expect that,' Mr Potter finished, a hint of a smile in his voice. 'Besides it'd be good for him to get out of that room for a bit, it'll help get him thinking about other things.'

Sirius scowled, he could feel that 'other thing', the one Mr Potter was trying not to mention, growing in the back of his mind.

'Well, I know James has been trying to help, but he's also trying to do the same for Remus.'

 _Ah yes, James the saint_ , Sirius relented a humourless smirk.

'How's she doing?' There was nothing amusing in Mr Potter's voice now.

Sirius heard a short huff before Mrs Potter reported, 'I can't understand it. She is healing faster than anyone I've ever seen. I mean, that cut on her arm is proof enough!'

'But you've been applying that salve you made especially for her wounds twice a day –'

'I should be applying it much more regularly than that, and I should be using much more of it as well!'

'So what do you make of it?'

There was a brief pause. Sirius closed the half-step that remained between himself and the library door. _She can't know. It's not possible._ Sirius held his breath.

'I can't be sure,' she said. 'I suppose youth could be a factor, or maybe the original wound wasn't as bad as we thought?' Her voice had dwindled into uncertainty and Sirius gritted his teeth in agreement. Both of her arguments could very easily be translated into a simple 'I don't know.'

Sirius could feel his teeth grinding together, scraping against each other. It would have been painful if he had been paying attention to it. He'd noticed her scars as well, but he was used to her quick healing and he'd been far too tired to notice the perplexed looks Mrs Potter had been giving them.

Should he try and come up with a cover story? He knew he was a decent liar but that would require some pretty creative thinking. And would it be worth it? James' parents weren't simpletons after all, chances are they'd see through him after the first sentence. But what other options did that leave him with? He could tell them the truth, in turn they would tell Dumbledore and then Lyra would most likely kill her brother the first chance she got. Sirius supressed a shudder.

'The Cruciatus?'

Sirius stopped again. He had been about to turn around, surely someone would be walking this way soon and this wasn't the best look. He'd stay for a few seconds more.

'I hate to think of it but she and Sirius both were severely dehydrated. Dehydration is one of the main side effects of the Cruciatus. I can't rule it out.'

Sirius' head was pounding suddenly and he was walking back towards the guest bedroom before he realised what he was doing.

He'd got to the foot of his bed before he stopped. Turning to face his unconscious sister, he could barely keep the sneer off his face.

'You're an idiot, you know that?' He hissed across the room.

XXXXXXXXX

'Sirius, please, we need to know.'

They were sitting at the small dining table in the small, sun-lit kitchen. On one side sat Mr and Mrs Potter, Mr Potter with his arms folded loosely across his chest, Mrs Potter's hands rested on the table top. She kept moving to lean forward, but would always pull up, drawing in her shoulders instead, as if resisting the urge to reach across the table to take Sirius' hands.

Sirius reckoned she would've too, which is partly why he kept his hands firmly stuffed in the pockets of the jumper he'd borrowed from James.

Sirius looked down at the wooden table, not really seeing it. Half his mid still hadn't left the Potter's guest bedroom, the other half was contemplating what answering Mrs Potter's question would mean.

It would mean that those people he once called 'family' would finally know justice. It would mean that he and Lyra would become more of a target than they were already likely to become, than they already were. And it would mean telling the two people he looked up to more than anyone else how much of a coward he really was.

'Sirius,' Mr Potter's voice was low, quiet and more serious than it had ever been, including the ordeal of a few nights previous, 'in order to help both you and Lyra, medically, we need to know what we're dealing with.'

Sirius' eyes shot up to meet the older man's. _In order to help Lyra_. Lyra, whose condition was still critical, Lyra, who still hadn't regained consciousness, Lyra, who had been through so much. Yes, for Lyra he could admit to his cowardice, for Lyra, he would do anything.

'Yes, they used it.'

The Potter's withdrew slightly, shock momentarily making their eyes widen before they narrowed once more.

'How many times?'

Sirius swallowed, thankful that James and Remus had left the room when the conversation had turned tense. 'Twice on me, once that I know of on Lyra.'

'That you know of?'

Sirius couldn't hold onto Mrs Potter's stare, he didn't want to see the shame that was about to fill them.

'The one time they used it against her in my presence, they looked nervous after, it didn't last long, it was like they didn't realise I was there, when they did they stopped right away.' Sirius swallowed the tightness in his throat. 'They had a habit of doing things behind closed doors. I never tried to think about what they did to her behind hers. I didn't want to know. I hoped that if I didn't assume the worst then it wouldn't come true.'

The Potter's jumped when Sirius' fist slammed down on the table.

'I should've done something!' There it was, if he was going to admit to his cowardice he might as well tell them the true extent of it. 'I didn't _do_ anything! I sat in my room, thinking about the next stupid prank I'd help pull with James.' From somewhere far away Sirius felt warmth coat his cheeks, and an arm that had come to wrap around his shoulders, squeezing him close to them, making his ragged breathing soften slightly. 'Afterwards,' Sirius said softly, 'I'd go into her room, I'd pretend she was sleeping, but I knew, I always knew.'

'Sirius, now you listen to me,' came Mrs Potter's voice from close next to him, 'the only thing that matters now is that you're safe, both of you. No one blames you for anything.' Sirius shook his head. 'We're proud of you,' came her reply.

After what could have been minutes or hours Sirius pulled away from Mrs Potter's embrace, refusing to meet the gaze of either of them.

'Now, why don't you go back to the room,' Mrs Potter said. 'I'll be in in a minute to check on Lyra.'

Sirius made his way numbly out of the kitchen and down the hallway. As he grew closer to the guest bedroom he heard voices that grew louder and louder with each passing step.

'What are we going to do!?'

Even without seeing him Sirius could tell that James was pacing furiously. And before he even heard Remus answer, Sirius pictured him, sitting on the edge of the bed Sirius had been occupying, looking calmly up as James paced in front of him, before dropping his gaze to the girl lying in the bed opposite.

'There's not much we _can_ do, James,' came Remus' sigh. Sirius had reached the door but stayed outside and out of sight. Suddenly the thought of facing them, of having to talk again, made him utterly exhausted. So instead he leaned his head up against the wall next to the doorframe and listened in on the two boys. 'The Blacks are a very influential family, James, they'd have plenty of connections at the Ministry that would surely protect them from whatever raids the Ministry attempts to conduct.'

Sirius shook his head softly, he hated it when Remus was right.

'Well if you think I'm just going to sit here and do nothing then you've got another thing coming, my friend.'

'And just what do you propose?'

'Not letting it be for nothing.'

Remus looked up immediately and found Sirius as soon as he stepped over the threshold. James froze, simply standing in front of Sirius for a few seconds, eyes wide and searching.

Sirius looked at both of them for a moment and then across at Lyra. 'We got what we went in for. We're going to Gringott's as soon as she's able.'

And then, in two great strides, James crossed the room and enveloped Sirius in a hug. Sirius gripped onto the boy fiercely.

Without saying a word, Sirius withdrew from James and went to sit on the side of Lyra's bed. She was so still, her arms on either side of her. Sirius reached and held one of her hands in his own.

'So, I guess that means you're staying here for good then!' James said, his voice back to its normal upbeat jovial tone.

Sirius shook his head, looking back to his sister, he almost missed the fact that he was now grinning as well.

XXXXXX

Something had woken him up, slowly, so slowly in fact that he could no longer tell if he was dreaming or not. The flickering flame of his bedside table's lamp answered his question. That was what had woken him, the flickering had worked itself through his closed lids and into his dreams until it had forced him to awaken.

He sat bolt upright when the flame suddenly flickered and went out. Sirius checked the window in the moonlight and saw that it was shut. He looked again at the lamp and reached out to it. He was a fingernails length away from it when it burst in to life again. It almost broke through the glass.

And then suddenly the window opened, then shut, it groaned in an unfelt howling wind as the light continued to flicker violently. Sirius leapt from his bed, rushing to the window, he went to shut it when it suddenly shook in great waves of tremors in it's frame.

Lyra's pained moans cut through Sirius' confusion. He threw himself down at her bedside and gripped her hands tightly. She started to toss, her breathing shallow as she began to shout out. As she shouted a wind began to howl louder around Sirius' ears.

'Lyra!' He called out to her, his voice barely heard over the wind. 'Lyra wake up! Lyra!'

And then there was silence, the wind stopped, the window slammed shut and the flame was snuffed, leaving them in nothing but cold moonlight. But through it Sirius could see everything, most of all he could see Lyra's silver eyes staring up at him.

'Sirius?' She moaned, and just like that, her eyelids dropped. Sirius was afraid she'd passed out again until she shifted, opening her eyes, much more slowly this time. Her half-opened eyes flickered over the room that was bathed in blue moonlight, the space between her eyebrows pulling together as she did so. 'Where are we?' Her voice was so soft, so weak, so panicked.

Sirius put a hand gently on her shoulder, trying to get her to stay still. 'We're at the Potters.'

She stared at him. He actually felt a pulse of pain when he noticed that the ring of silver encasing her irises, that was normally strangely bright and positively swimming, were now so incredibly dull that it had all but disappeared. Sirius had to grab her hand when it rose, reaching for his face that was still sporting a cut lip. 'Don't.'

'But you're hurt.'

'And so are you.'

It was as if she was suddenly hit with a silent curse at his words, Lyra sunk further into the bed as she groaned.

'Shh, where does it hurt?'

Lyra groaned again. 'My middle.'

Sirius smoothed her hair. 'It's alright. Why don't you get some rest, we'll talk more later, okay?'

Lyra nodded, softly saying 'alright' and after a few moments she was still once more.

Sirius stayed there kneeling next to her bed for a while, his eyes flicking over to the unlit candle on the bed side every so often. Finally, he rose from the floor, his knees protesting as he stretched them out. Not really feeling up to facing the blackness of sleep just yet, he left the room – wincing as he was forced to limp – and headed for the kitchen. Once he'd reached it, he flicked his wand blindly, illuminating the room.

'Holy-!' Sirius jumped as he looked up from the floor, finding a thoroughly unperturbed Marlene McKinnon sitting atop the kitchen counter munching on a chocolate biscuit.

'Quiet down, Black,' she said, looking around the room. She hopped off the counter and made her way into the large walk-in pantry. After a few seconds, Marlene reappeared holding a glass of orange juice. Finally, she looked at Sirius.

'You look awful,' she said blandly, taking a seat at the small kitchen table.

Sirius rolled his eyes now that the shock had worn off. Of course it would be Marlene bloody McKinnon who he would meet at four in the morning in the Potter's kitchen, he should've been expecting it, really. After he'd grabbed a biscuit for himself he sat down at the table opposite her.

'How the hell did you get in here? This house is supposed to be protected.'

'You don't really think that the Potter's would shut out their neighbours though, do you?'

'One can dream,' Sirius mumbled, mouth full of biscuit.

This time it was she who rolled her eyes. 'So,' her voice was a bit more serious this time, 'how are the two Black Bandits doing, anyway?'

Sirius looked at her incredulously. 'No one has _ever_ called us that!' When she gave no response, he continued. 'Lyra's,' he tried to figure out the best way to continue, 'Lyra's resting. She –she didn't have the best time of it.' Somehow, he knew that she knew what had happened over the last few days, he wasn't sure how, but it's McKinnon . . . the girl had an annoying habit of knowing more than she had any right to.

There was a voice somewhere in his head telling him that he shouldn't be telling her this. But it was Marlene McKinnon for Merlin's sake! She had been rooming with Lyra for the last six and a half years. She was James' neighbour, the closest thing the boy had to a sister, and she was no stranger to what went on in the stricter Pureblood families.

Marlene did nothing but raise a single eyebrow, if Sirius were anyone else he probably would've started fidgeting under her gaze. As it were, he calmly waited for her to talk again.

'And how are you holding up?' It was hard to find anything but mild curiosity in her voice.

'I'm here aren't I?' The bitterness in his was unmistakable.

'Hmm,' was all she said. The two fell in to a somewhat comfortable, if not a little strained, silence for a while, the only noise came from the grandfather clock standing in the living room down the hall.

'Well,' Sirius almost jumped again when she finally broke the silence. 'I daresay that you'll be seeing me before the holidays are up – a prospect that thrills you, I'm sure.' She smirked. 'But until then, I'll leave you to it.' She rose from the table, putting her cup on the counter top. She gave Sirius a little nod of the head, swung open the back door and casually strolled off into the darkness.

As Sirius sat there he couldn't help but be just a bit unnerved with the new-found knowledge that she could come and go from this house whenever she pleased.

* * *

 **By the way, I love writing Marlene the most . . . just thought you oughta know haha**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry, sorry, sorry for the delay on this chapter! I've recently taken on two jobs pretty much at the same time and haven't had much of a chance to update this chapter. I may have lied last time when I said that this would have new content . . . It does, but not as much as** _ **next**_ **chapter is going to have (lol, my bad). But please give this one a read through, and I hope you like it . . .**

* * *

 _Horror shook through her like seizing convulsions . . . And for the smallest second . . . a second that almost stretched long enough to consume her completely, Lyra hated her brother – her twin . . . It couldn't be true. She was dreaming. This was one of her nightmares . . . one of her horrible nightmares._

* * *

Lyra had been awake for two days now. After the first night, Sirius had moved into James' room – the Potter's had conjured yet another bed . . . thankfully, James' room was big enough for this not to leave them cramped.

But even though he slept upstairs in James' room, he still spent most of his time in the guest bedroom. Lyra was still weak but, as Mrs Potter had observed, she was improving quickly.

Now that she was awake, however, the simmering anger that had slowly been growing . . . growling within him whilst she was unconscious, had dimmed. It was now mixing with other emotions that had been swirling within him since that day they escaped. He wasn't sure whether to yell at her or to thank Merlin that her eyes were finally opened.

That didn't stop him from approaching her when he was sure she could take it – late in the night, five days after they'd arrived – and addressing the one thing that had been fuelling his rage above all else.

'They could have killed you!'

'And they _would have_ killed you!'

Sirius pulled up. He clenched his jaw as he rubbed his temples – the image of Lyra breaking free of their mother's hold and grabbing his hand. He could still feel the heat that had washed through him at her touch and the horror he'd felt soon after when he realised what she'd done.

Shaking away the image, he looked at her. It would be easy to tell himself that she was still weak, that they shouldn't be yelling at one another. But then she leaned forwards, looking right into his eyes and he realised that she didn't need to yell, she'd never needed to.

'You cannot tell me that you would have done nothing . . . If you had the option that I had, in that moment . . . you cannot sit here and tell me that you wouldn't have done exactly the same thing.'

His jaw clenched tighter.

'I didn't think so,' she said, leaning back into her pillows, closing her eyes.

In his mind's eye, Sirius saw himself saying all the things he wanted to say in that moment as guilt reared within him. Then he imagined her response and the words that had been bubbling uncomfortably in his throat receded.

She didn't open her eyes as he stood. Fishing around in his pockets he found what he was looking for, he withdrew it from the back pocket of his jeans and tossed it into Lyra's lap. Her eyes opened immediately.

'What's this?' She held up the folded parchment.

'Open it.'

She did, narrowed eyes still focussed on Sirius. Only when it was spread out in front of her did she tear her eyes away from him. A number of emotions flickered across her face before it finally settled somewhere between elation and disbelief.

'You found it!'

'It was in Father's desk, in the secret compartment he didn't think anyone but he would be smart enough to get into,' Sirius said with no small amount of triumph.

'But Mother disinherited us,' Lyra said, frowning down at the parchment, 'wouldn't that now mean that this is null and void?'

'I thought of that too. But I think we should double check, just to make sure.'

Lyra nodded distractedly, still skimming the words before her. It was Sirius' turn to frown when she let out a breathy chuckle.

'Ironic, isn't it?' She held up the parchment. 'This is why we went back there, we thought that having this would free us . . . turns out that there was another option.'

'I wouldn't call being nearly killed another option,' Sirius muttered.

'Doesn't matter . . . after what happened at that dinner with the Rosier's I couldn't see them having put up with us for too much longer anyways.'

It was as if a spark had been struck in Sirius' mind. He couldn't believe that he'd almost forgotten about the dinner – it was the reason that they'd had to delay their plans after all. Now that she mentioned it, the memory of all that had occurred . . . all that had been said . . . all that had been implied, came rushing back to him at an almost dizzying pace.

'We need to talk about what happened that night, Lyra . . .'

XXXXXXX

Remus rolled over with a groan. The light from the moon rolled in through the open window. He was tempted to get up and slam the window shut, as if this would somehow block out his discomfort.

 _As if._

Clumsily grabbing for the glass of water on his bedside table, Remus almost groaned again upon discovering it empty. He carefully slipped from his bed and tiptoed over to the door. Looking back into the room he found that his caution wasn't needed as Sirius' bed was empty, the covers thrown back messily, and it was a well-known fact that James would sleep through an earthquake.

Frowning, Remus made his way downstairs, glass firmly clutched in his hand.

When he was halfway down the staircase, Remus heard murmurs and saw the soft, distant glow of a flickering flame. The murmurs and the glow grew and when he'd reached the landing he could make out two distinct voices.

He knew he shouldn't, he should go to the kitchen, fill up his glass and go back upstairs to bed. Later he would tell himself that the reason he failed to do these things was a result of Sirius and James' bad influence on him. So, instead of heading towards the direction of the kitchen, he turned towards the back of the house and followed the light and voices.

Both had him stopping just outside the room Lyra was staying in. Remus had at first been tempted to run in and offer his help, thinking that Lyra had relapsed, but then he heard Lyra's voice and he could tell from the clear way she spoke that she was in no danger. So Remus just hid and listened.

'Sirius, we've been through this.' Remus heard a great deal of restraint in Lyra's voice. 'Can't we just drop it?'

'No!'

Remus blinked. He hadn't been expecting Sirius to sound so, so harsh.

'You're not going to ignore this one, Lyra. You can't just do that with everything you don't like thinking about.'

Remus pictured Lyra clenching her jaw.

 _Better tread lightly, Sirius._

'I've apologised for what I did at dinner,' Lyra said with deadly calm.

'I'm not talking about what _you_ did!'

Remus blinked again.

'And I've told you before, you have nothing to be sorry about. You were brilliant.'

'Sirius,' Lyra warned.

A chair scraped on the floor boards and Remus had to take half a step closer to the doorway as Sirius lowered his voice.

'I'm talking about what triggered it.'

Lyra groaned half-heartedly.

'There was more to that conversation than what was being said and I know you know it too, there's no point denying _that_.'

'I'm not denying anything. I just don't know why you want to look into it so much. What are you hoping to learn from all this, anyway?'

There was a moments silence. Remus used it to try and make some sort of sense of what he was hearing. But, try as he might, he couldn't make heads nor tails of it. He could feel the tension seeping from the room and it was making it very hard to concentrate. He simply found himself staring blankly down the dark hallway.

'Just tell me that you're not connecting any of this to that ridiculous rumour.'

Another pause. Lyra groaned again, there was nothing half-hearted about it this time though.

'I will _never_ understand why you choose to be dragged in to this . . . this nonsense!'

'You've got to admit that it would explain some things, though, wouldn't it?'

There was a pregnant pause. If Sirius meant what Remus thought he meant then he could imagine the glare he was receiving right now. Remus suppressed a shudder.

'Look, we have had this haunting us our whole lives. And if it's true then it might just be the key to everything. There's a war going on out there, Lyra!'

'What's your point, Sirius!' Lyra snapped.

'Don't you want to help if you can?' Sirius' voice was soft, almost . . . pleading. 'I just need to know . . . and since the rumour is about us, I think I'm entitled to some answers and whatever was being said at dinner that night had something more to do with that rumour then either of us know.'

'No, Sirius, you _don't_ need to know. Honestly you and James can't help but stick your noses into places they ought not to go, that's a sure-fire way to get them blown off if you ask me – not to mention every other part of you.'

'I have every right and reason to go looking for answers, Lyra. They were obviously hiding something from us, and not just Mother and Father, but everyone that night. And you can't pretend it didn't have anything to do with us, not after this, not after what's happened because of it. When we go to Gringotts I'm going to try and see what I can find.'

'I don't think you're going to find any clues about it in Diagon Alley, Sirius.'

There was yet another break in the twins heated conversation, this one seemed to be stretching a bit. Remus was about to turn and leave, knowing that some of the twins' conversations sometimes ended in abrupt silences, both of them being as stubborn as the other. But then he heard his name.

'Do you really think that James or Remus, are just going to let you take a leisurely stroll down Knockturn Alley? – Not to mention the fact that I'll be there as well.'

Knockturn Alley? Remus could list at least four bookshops other than Flourish and Blotts that could be found in Diagon Alley. Knockturn Alley was a place dedicated to the Dark Arts, or anyone associated with it. The only reason it still stood was that nothing particularly overt ever happened there. Those who ventured into the dark streets all had ways of concealing their activities that had proved untraceable. Remus may not know much about Pureblood society but what he did know, from what he'd been told, is that the Black twins now had targets on their backs and Knockturn Alley would not be the place to get rid of them.

'Look, all I'm saying is that sometimes words are just words. Yes, our . . . situation is unique, but that doesn't mean that it has anything to do with Dark Magic.'

'I'm just trying to help, Lyra.'

Remus heard her sigh. 'I know.'

The silence this time was different, it had a certain sense of finality which the previous ones had lacked.

As Remus silently climbed the stairs again, empty glass forgotten in his hand, he thought about telling James what he'd heard. Maybe if James kept a closer eye on him, Sirius wouldn't have the chance to sneak away. Because Lyra was right, anything to do with Knockturn Alley was dangerous.

What he didn't understand, however, was what the entire conversation that was still repeating over and over again in his head was all about. And he started asking the question that, perhaps, should have been posed when the twins had appeared at the Potter's doorstep, bloody and dying.

After all this time, after suffering silently for so long, what had finally lead this to go from bad to worse?

And maybe more importantly, what the hell happened at that dinner?

One thing was for certain, Remus couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts so that everything could return to normal.

XXXXXXXX

If there was one thing Walburga Black would never do, it would be to let anyone see anything but how confident she was. And this is what she thought, like a mantra repeating within her, with every clip of her heels on the cobbled stone, of every swing of her dragon hide purse as she strode through Diagon Alley.

She avoided the gazes of those she did not know but gave a stiff nod of the head to those she recognised. And as she approached the back end of the Alley, she never lost that well practiced confidence and the grace that came with it. And as she passed the grimy sign that read Knockturn Alley, only briefly looking at it before making her way down into the shadowed lane, her posture only became taller.

Knockturn Alley was one feature of Wizarding London that would surely never change. It had not changed for many years, from it's blackened bricks to the shops that lined the Alley and the whores and beggars that filled it. So Walburga didn't have to look down at them as she strode on through, she had no need to glance in store windows or to the street signs, for she remembered where she was going.

A peculiar high pitched tune seemed to echo off into the far corners of the dark shop as Walburga Black entered through the heavy wooden front door. She tried to ignore how it lingered as she pulled her gloves off a finger at a time.

The tune faded to give way to clicking, like the click of a shoe heel . . . or the tip of a cane – a sound that was all too familiar.

Walburga looked hastily into the surrounding darkness, searching for the source of the noise.

The front windows were covered in thick, dark drapes, the glass that they failed to cover was thick with decades worth of grime and dirt. There was no way of anyone on the outside being able to see what was going on within the shop.

A small bared window was set close to the ceiling along the far back wall of the small room. A small stream of striped light was able to break through but failed to reach to where Walburga now stood, still not too far from the entry. What little light that did manage to tear it's way into the shop fell lazily against the back wall and the desk that was set a metre from it. The dark wood was chipping and splintering away, peeling back from years of neglect. Splatters of dried liquid painted the surface and had slid down the sides before running out of momentum. Walburga didn't allow herself to contemplate what the splatters may be. Anything beyond this desk was shrouded in an unnatural haze.

Walburga could make out the silhouettes of tall, long shelves, laden with heavy looking books and potion bottles – big and small – lining the remaining walls. Some of the books lay open, as if abandoned halfway through perusal, others looked as if they were moving, wriggling, their edges flapping in an unfelt breeze.

The clicking grew louder until a hunched, grey haired and thoroughly grimy looking woman appeared on behind the desk, a long, spindly walking stick gripped in her frail hand. As the old woman regarded Walburga she started to smile slowly.

'Well, well, well,' her voice could only be likened to a creaking door, painfully drawn out and broken, 'if it isn't the reverent Mrs Black, I haven't seen you in a very long time, my dear. What's it been, close to eighteen years now?'

Walburga scowled at the old hag's smirk.

'And what brings you to me this time? Do you wish to discuss another. . .' she paused, looking about the room, as if the right words would appear out of the open books on the shelves, 'business opportunity with me?'

Walburga scoffed. 'Hardly. I am not someone who makes the same mistakes twice.' She took another look around the room, dismissing the hag, who, Walburga was pleased to note, had lost the edge to her smirk. 'No, I have come to discuss the last _dealing_ we conducted together. I trust you remember how the conversation we had over _that_ topic turned out?'

From the corner of her eye, Walburga saw the hag touch her side gingerly and wince as she did it.

'You may have tricked me once before with your ability to find loopholes in the dealings you conduct, but I can assure you that the resultant lesson in caution has become a most valuable commodity.' Walburga turned to look at the elderly witch again. 'Thank you for that.' She gave a tight-lipped, mocking smile. 'You once told me that there would be a price to be paid for your services. I'm sure you've heard by now what has transpired within my family. I'm not sure how you would know but I do not doubt your ability to obtain information that I would otherwise prefer to keep private . . . another lesson you taught me,' she sneered, something she would never do outside this prison.

'Ask what you came here to ask,' was all the response she got.

'Has the price been paid?'

'I told you that patience will lead you to the knowledge of that price.'

Walburga narrowed her eyes into dangerous slits as a flood of cold fear flooded through her, the heat of frustration washing it away immediately. 'I have been patient for long enough!' She hissed. 'You may have thought that I had forgotten your words, and perhaps for a time I managed to put it out of my mind, but circumstances have changed. Now I want to know when you plan on settling our account, and how. And I want to know exactly what other consequences our deal had,' a shadow that had nothing to do with the lack of light fell over Walburga's face as she stepped solidly towards the hag. 'Because it seems that there were quite a few.'

And she was astonished when the hag's smirk grew tenfold, not that Walburga would ever let it show.

* * *

 **So funny thing, I actually kind of forget what Walburga and the old witch are supposed to be talking about in this last scene! I added one or two lines more into the dialogue to help me jog my memory but hopefully it'll all come back to me (I know it's a horrible thing to have happened! But I wrote this almost a year ago and I'm notorious for not writing things down when they come to me).**

 **I haven't had a chance to reply to everyone's reviews from last chapter, but thanks to everyone who did, here are the responses anyways:**

 **Lilrilakkuma – Yeah, I love Marlene's character too much to cut many of her scenes out (she's dry . . . I like it haha) and only time will tell with what's really going on with the twins ;)**

 **Raven that flies at night – You would have my full support if you went over to that house and gave them a good butt-whooping AND I would defend you against the Wizengamot to boot!**

 **And thanks to Beauty Eclipsed and ImsebastianstanButter for your continued support :)**

 **Okay I'm going to stop typing and get to sleep. Thanks and please remember to leave a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN at the end ...**

* * *

 _Her jaw clenched, her skin becoming steel-hard as he brushed the tips of his fingers across her cheek and jaw. As Lyra closed her eyes, shutting out the world, Sirius narrowed his. How he wanted to charge at the man, to tear his fingers from his hand. Sirius' nostrils flared dangerously as their captor stared at Lyra._

 _'Lovely Lyra . . . that's what they call you, isn't it?' He said it with a light smile, an expression of wonder, of awe, of longing consuming his face and eyes._

 _Sirius struggled desperately against the ropes that held him. Lyra didn't even look as if she was breathing she was so still, the shift in the air was the only indication of just how aware she was._

* * *

It was the day before they were set to return to Hogwarts – it would be their last term before graduating . . . a most nauseating prospect.

Lyra tended not to think too far into the future. She had surprised herself when she had managed to get anything out in her fifth year when McGonagall asked about her plans after Hogwarts. She remembered making something up about magizoology, but of course, that was a lie. The truth was that she was having a hard-enough time getting through a single day, let alone thinking about what was going to happen a few months from now.

Mrs Potter had been applying her pink salve – a medicine of her own making – twice daily to the wounds on her stomach, which would now forever be scarred . . . a permanent reminder of just what it meant to be a member of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. She could feel the salve working . . . but she could tell it's healing effects were only seeping in so deep . . . and it wasn't deep enough. But she couldn't do anything about it here, not in this house, not with so many people around, checking up on her almost hourly. She'd have to wait till she returned to Hogwarts – for now, Mrs Potter's remedy would have to suffice, until she had enough privacy to couple it with her own solution.

Lyra bit back a groan as she stood up, the muscles in her stomach and the wounds there stiff from her night's rest. She got dressed whilst trying to move as little as possible and hissed every time she was forced to twist, making her wounds stretch.

Mrs Potter had advised against her leaving the house but Lyra had assured her that she was feeling much better. And whilst the wounds across her stomach were still ghastly red, and the areas around them mottled with patches of blue, black and purple, her strength and mobility had almost completely returned. A little trip into Diagon Alley wouldn't take too much out of her . . . and besides, she was to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow, clearly the time for resting was over.

James and Remus accompanied the twins into Diagon Alley. The place was positively buzzing with Hogwarts students who had decided to leave it till the last minute to spend the money they'd received for Christmas. But even with the streets so full, the slightly crooked structure that was Gringotts Bank towered over all the other buildings.

When the four were standing before the Bank's marble steps, they turned to one another and said their goodbyes – Remus and James were going to meet up with Remus' parents at the Leaky Cauldron whilst the twins went to their meeting. They'd all agreed to meet up in half an hour at the pub.

Sirius strode confidently up the steps and even winked at the guards by the door as he entered the bank. Lyra averted her eyes from them as she followed.

Lyra always felt nervous in Diagon Alley. There were far too many people than she was used to. There was too much energy in the air . . . too much magic . . . too much excitement. But once she crossed the threshold into the bank the energy changed . . . not softened necessarily, but smoothed out, became more refined.

She looked around, trying to keep her head low, and saw the goblins in their booths, counting rubies and gems the size of Occamy eggs, others were tending to witches and wizards – handing over pouches and keys. Each Goblin was working with the utmost proficiency and focus, as if each task was undoubtedly the most important thing in the world. Lyra had to admire their dedication – if not their calming energy.

Sirius spotted a Goblin who seemed to be free and made his way over to him. The Goblin didn't acknowledge them as they stood before his booth.

Sirius coughed impatiently, raising an eyebrow when the Goblin slowly raised his head and met Sirius' expectant gaze with one of the most grating type of frustration.

'We're here for a pre-arranged meeting with a . . . Gornuk,' Sirius said, consulting a letter he'd received a few days ago. 'If you please,' he added smugly.

Lyra would have to remember to yell at him later.

The Goblin narrowed his eyes and held out his hand, silently asking to inspect the letter. Sirius gave it to him and waited for the details to be confirmed. The Goblin's glare only deepened but he motioned them to follow him nonetheless.

Sirius and Lyra were lead away from the main foyer to a narrow hallway. Doors to what could only be assumed to be offices lined the walls. The Goblin ushered them to the third one down on the left and knocked on the door, not waiting for a response before opening it.

As soon as it clicked open, Sirius pushed it the rest of the way and walked straight in. Lyra couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes and made sure to thank the Goblin as she passed him – which only resulted in another look of suspicion from the small creature. The door clicked shut behind them when they were both inside.

The room was small, bathed in gold light from an ornate chandelier swinging gently above them. Filing cabinets lined the back of the office. They were constantly opening and shutting on their own, files and bits of parchment soaring in and out, moving from one draw to another, or simply just whizzing through the air and sliding under the door out of the room.

A desk, inlaid with gold sat before the cabinets. It was surprisingly sparse considering all that was going on amongst the cabinets behind it. Sitting on a tall chair, looking expectantly across at them, sat a stately looking Goblin, who Lyra could now only assume was Gornuk.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Mr and Miss Black, I presume?' He said, more of a demand rather than an actual question.

Sirius closed the distance between where he stood and the desk. He withdrew the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and put it on the table in front of Gornuk, who glanced down at it impassively.

'We need to know if this contract is still binding.'

'Sirius!' Lyra warned under her breath. She had lectured him in the past about showing proper respect . . . lectures that had obviously been nothing but a waste of breath. She brushed past him and took one of the empty chairs. The seat was made from hard wood and did nothing to ease the soft pain from her stomach as she sat.

Gornuk looked away from the contract and reclined in his own seat – a high-backed, plush thing, almost resembling a throne – and regarded Sirius and Lyra for a moment. He seemed to be waiting for something. It wasn't until he lowered his eyes to the empty chair before the desk that what he was waiting for became clear. Sirius looked as if he was about to groan in annoyance as he sat down. Thankfully for everyone in the room, he managed to control himself.

'Our records regarding the Black family has recently changed.' He clicked his long fingers and a file pushed out of one of the cabinets and soared onto the desk, opening up so that Gornuk could consult it. 'It would appear that one Master Regulus Arcturus Black is now the heir to the Black family fortune and that the two of you – one Master Sirius Orion Black and one Miss Lyra Carina Black – have been disinherited.'

Lyra could practically hear Sirius' teeth grinding. 'Yes, we're aware of it.'

'As this is now the case,' Gornuk continued, ignoring Sirius' interruption, 'all contracts pertaining to the two of you, or those made on your behalves have been severed, as such a time exists in which you are reinstated into the family or you inherit the fortune following the death of the last remining male heir who still remains in good standing within the family.'

Lyra's stomach churned at the thought of Regulus' implied death.

'So, what you're saying,' Sirius gritted out impatiently, 'is that this contract has been severed.'

Gornuk was now glaring daggers at Sirius. He stewed a little before unfurling his clenched, thin lips. 'Yes, Mr Black, that is what I am saying.'

'Good.' Sirius stood up, the legs of his wooden chair squealing against the polished marble floor as it was pushed back by his legs. 'That's all we came for so, I guess we'll be going.' He grabbed the contract back off Gornuk's desk and made to leave. He'd already wrenched the door open and was walking back the way they'd come before Lyra stood from her chair.

'Come on, Lyra!' Sirius called from the hallway.

Lyra turned to follow him before pausing and turning back to face Gornuk. She'd been about to say thank you for the Goblin's help but something about the way Gornuk now looked at her made her hesitate.

It was as if he was studying her . . . studying her with great interest, as if she was a treasure he hadn't seen in a long time. It looked like he wanted to say something . . . and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what he'd say.

So, she cleared her throat and said, with as much casual air as she could muster under such an intense assessment, 'Thank you, Gornuk, for your assistance. It has been most helpful, and most appreciated.' With that, and another impatient shout from Sirius, Lyra ducked her head in a nod of thanks and left, trying to ignore the burning feeling of eyes on her as she walked from the room.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Sirius hated Goblins. They always looked like they were up to no good. They had that in common with House Elves he supposed. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one who held that opinion.

The whole way back to the Leaky Cauldron, Lyra chastised him.

'Why do you treat them like that?' She snapped as soon as they'd descended the marble steps.

'Like what?'

'Like – like you're better than them or something? That's not truly how you think, is it?'

'What? Of course it isn't,' he said quickly. 'I just don't trust them.'

Lyra groaned quietly beside him. 'Sirius . . . Sirius!' She reached out and took hold of his arm when he ignored her.

He couldn't understand why she always wanted to make a big deal over things like this. They needed to know if the contract was still binding, so they'd gone to a Goblin. It was their job to deal with these things, it was what they lived for – it was _why_ they lived . . . he doubted whether he'd really hurt the Goblin's feelings.

He tried to pull his arm free but Lyra's grip was surprisingly strong. He whirled around to face her, his patience waning. And by the look of her pursed lips, so was hers.

'Just . . .' she started before hesitating, she looked around, as if checking that no one had heard her before lowering her voice and taking a step towards him. 'Just think about what kind of person you want to be seen as. That's all I'm saying. Or people might get the wrong impression of you.' She let go of his wrist and turned her head, looking down the street. She seemed to focus on a certain point.

'The only people whose opinions I value know what kind of person I am.'

Lyra didn't look away from whatever it was that now held her attention. Her jaw was clenching and unclenching, like a pulse – a tell-tale sign that she wanted to say something but was unsure as to whether she should speak or keep quiet. A twitch of the corner of her mouth told Sirius that she'd made up her mind.

'If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals,' she said quietly before brushing past him and resuming the path back to the pub.

Sirius stared at the spot she'd been standing for a beat before turning around looking in the direction that had held her attention. He'd been trying to decipher what possible relevance her last statement had had – they'd been talking about Goblins and then she spurts out nonsense about equals and inferiors and such – but when he looked down the crowded alley way realisation hit him with sinking guilt.

Sirius watched the happy father and daughter, both laughing in obvious joy together as they looked at owls in a shop window, as he made his way down the alley. When he passed them and caught sight of his sister's back, the guilt he'd felt passed as well, and was replaced with white hot rage.

The twins didn't say another word to each other until they reached the pub and met up with Remus and James – Remus' parents had gone shopping in muggle London.

They'd just finished eating when Sirius glanced towards the exit. There was still one more thing he needed to do before they all continued with the day. Once they were out in the Alley again, there'd be too much excitement and the risk of forgetting all together would become too great. This might be his last chance to slip away for a few moments unnoticed.

So he made the excuse of needing the bathroom and left the others to finish their lunch.

As he was nearing the bathroom however, he looked back over his shoulder across the pub to make sure the others weren't watching. He then hunched his shoulders and started towards the front door instead. On his way, he grabbed a cloak that had been hanging on the back of a chair. Throwing the heavy thing around his shoulders, he flipped the collar up, hiding his face.

He didn't look up until he reached Knockturn Alley, even then he made sure to keep his head low, never drawing back the flipped-up collar.

He passed all sorts of antique shops, grimy looking apothecaries and a shopfront with what looked like dragon eggs lined up in the front window. He looked from one to the other, not entirely sure what he was searching for . . . he doubted he'd know until he spotted it – whatever _it_ was.

He didn't make eye contact with anyone he passed, for even though he couldn't see them, he would walk through a cloud of old sweat, piss and sour liquor every time he passed them by.

Something bright flashed in his vision, blinding him. Raising a hand to provide some cover he turned towards the spot the flash had come from. In the distance he saw a rusted old sign, swinging above the entrance to a narrow shop. The shopfront windows were so grime-ridden that trying to peer inside would have been futile. The sign was in a similar state of neglect. Whatever it had once said was no longer legible and it creaked loudly on rusted hinges in the strong draft pushing through the alley. Small patches of gold – gold that had caught the sliver of sunlight and caused Sirius' temporary blindness – was the only hint of any former glory the shop may have once held.

Despite it's appearance, however, Sirius knew that this might just have been what he'd been searching for.

 _Finally_.

There was no doubt in his mind that by now the others would have noticed that he had yet to return from the bathroom. He wondered where they'd gone to look for him first. But, luckily for him, Diagon Alley was a big place. He had plenty of time.

He was five strides away from the shop when a sharp-nailed grip closed around his wrist. He tried jerking it away but the grip was iron-clad.

He followed the arm and was met with an extremely old looking woman. The potted skin on her hand and arm were nothing compared to her face. The woman could very well have been an Inferi, coming to haunt him – her skin was sunken and clung to her bones like wax dripping down a candlestick, barely holding on. She was smiling an awful smile, mouth full of yellow, rotting teeth on full display. Sirius wrinkled his nose without thinking, she wreaked of mothballs, excessive amounts of cheap perfume and something metallic he couldn't quite place.

'And what brings such a young and handsome man down this lane?' She crowed up at him in a would-be silky sort of voice had it not been so gravely and fake. Looking around the alley, her wretched smile grew when she realised just how sparse this part of the alley was. 'You're not alone down here, surely?'

'What's it to you?' Sirius sneered.

The woman raised a thick eyebrow, looking Sirius up and down slowly, her grip on his wrist never slackening. 'Pity,' she muttered. 'I get the scabbard but not the blade, how disappointing.' She looked at him again. 'But what a fine scabbard it is.'

And then she was pulling him with a strength that momentarily stunned him. But he recovered quickly and dug his heels in, trying to yank his arm free.

'What the hell do you think you're doing, woman? Let go of me!'

But she acted like she didn't hear him. Panic was well and truly setting in now as they neared closer and closer to a shadowed side street when a voice rang down the Alley towards them.

'Sirius?!'

 _Thank fuck._

'Remus!' Sirius called over his shoulder. 'Remus, down here!'

As soon as he'd called out, the witch had released Sirius and fled impossibly quickly down the side street. Sirius whipped his wand out and had it pointing down into the shadows by the time Remus reached his side.

'Sirius! What the hell do you think you're doing down here?' Remus hissed in his ear.

Not looking away from the shadowy street, Sirius lowered his wand. 'Nothing,' he turned away. 'Nothing, let's go.'

XXXX

Sirius had made Remus promise not to tell anyone – _especially_ Lyra – that he'd found him in Knockturn Alley. Remus, being the good friend that he was, had agreed and had told James and Lyra that he'd found Sirius chatting up some Ravenclaw from Hogwarts back in the pub. Sirius was more than happy to play along.

'You mean you actually went outside to go look for me?' Sirius exclaimed. 'Bit over the top, don't you think?' He avoided looking to Lyra as he felt her glowering at him. Instead he looked at James who merely smiled sheepishly and suggested that they go to Flourish and Blotts – there was a new book on Quidditch James had been talking about and Sirius was all too happy for a distraction.

It was in Flourish and Blotts that Sirius had finally found some time to be alone . . . It wasn't his fault that the spot happened to be in the section of the bookshop that focussed on the darker aspects of magic. It was nothing like the information he could possibly hope to find in the dodgy shops of Knockturn Alley but it was something at least.

'I thought you'd given up?'

Lyra's voice made him start. She stood with her arms folded across her chest and a single eyebrow raised as she regarded him. He closed the book and stood from the stool he had been sitting in.

'It can't hurt to just have a look,' he said, slotting the book back onto the shelf.

'If you say so.'

Sirius opened his mouth when another voice cut through the silence.

'Well, well, well, if it isn't the latest failures.'

Sirius rolled his eyes and turned to face the smug face of Rabastan Lestrange, leaning against a bookshelf at the end of the isle, legs casually crossed at the ankles. As per usual he was dressed in a set of very expensive looking, tailored black robes and his eyes shone with undisguised triumph as he glared at Sirius. Lestrange looked at the book Sirius had just replaced.

'Bit late to be trying to get into your parents good graces isn't it?'

Sirius' eyes narrowed. 'Hardly, I was actually trying to find out what horrible potion your mother must have swallowed in order for you to come out looking like that.' Sirius couldn't contain his smirk. 'Or rather, what potion her mother drunk before her birth.'

A soft hand closed around his wrist from behind him.

'Sirius,' Lyra warned softly.

Lestrange, who had turned positively livid, was about to bite back to Sirius' comment but stopped when Lyra spoke, as if he had just noticed that she was there as well. Sirius was ready to pounce at the boy, fists ready, when Lestrange's angry frown turned into a cool smirk.

'Ah,' he said, voice icily smooth, 'if it isn't Lovely Lyra.'

Sirius clenched his fist, Lyra's grip turning firm around his wrist.

'How nice it is to see you again.' He pushed away from the bookshelf and strode towards the twins.

Sirius growled and went to match his step forward, but Lyra tugged him to stay where he was. He sneered as Lestrange came to stand in front of them. The infuriating smirk never wavered as he looked over Sirius' shoulder to stare at Lyra.

'I was worried that your brother's latest act of foolishness might compromise our relationship.'

Lyra's grip became even tighter.

'It already has,' Sirius sneered. 'I wasn't the only one disinherited.'

Lestrange tore his eyes away from Lyra and met Sirius' glare, matching it with one just a fierce.

'Your betrothal contract has been severed.' Sirius felt his heart sour in triumph at the shock that flittered ever so quickly across Lestrange's face. 'We had it confirmed this morning.'

Unfortunately, the momentary shock wore off far too quick to savour and Lestrange was once again addressing Lyra.

'What a life your brother has condemned you to,' he purred to her. Sirius wanted nothing more than to hit Lestrange with the most powerful curse he knew, or better yet, the strongest right hook he could manage. Lestrange ignored Sirius, as if he wasn't there at all. 'Dragging you into mess after mess. That's no way for a gentleman to act.' Sirius bristled as Lestrange looked his sister up and down slowly, hungrily. 'I'd be happy to show you how a normal man acts,' he said, raising an eyebrow.

 _That's it!_ As Sirius stepped forward, the grip on his wrist was like solid iron, holding him back. Lestrange's smirk grew, coiling up his cheek. But before Sirius had a chance to break free of her hold, Lyra was pulling him back into the main area of the shop.

From behind them, Sirius could hear Lestrange's laughing voice, 'I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts, my dear, don't be a stranger!'

When they caught up with the others, Lyra released Sirius' wrist as if it were on fire. Neither twin spoke much for the rest of the day, if the others noticed, they didn't say anything, to which both Sirius and Lyra were grateful.

XXXXXX

Later that night, when Sirius was changing for bed something caught his eye. He raised his wrist to see the blackened outline of a hand print there. Sirius Black had a rather fitful night's sleep that night . . . the night before his final term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

 **Wow, two updates within days of each other … I think that's a first, no?**

 **So there's a lot of new content in this which I mainly found necessary to explain why the twins were at Grimmauld Place over the Christmas holidays (normally I imagined them to stay at Hogwarts or go to the Potters) but I really liked the way this story started and didn't want to change it. But I think this explanation holds, although feel free to tell me what you think cause obviously I'm a little biased :P**

 **Just to clear things up as well, the italicised parts that preface each chapter is a flashforward to later parts of the story – much of which I have already written. Sometimes they might be a little vague but I can't give you** _ **everything**_ **haha. I was considering dating them like I did the first one in the first chapter but I didn't want to put my foot in it and mess up the timeline.**

 **My continued thanks to everyone who comments, follows and favourites this story, I love you all!**

 **Next chapter – back to Hogwarts and Remus gives Lyra her Christmas present!**


	6. Chapter 6

**As always thanks to everyone who continues to keep up to date with this story, it means so much to me!**

 **Thought I'd drop in some trivia . . . I've always pictured Adelaide Kane (of Reign stardom) as Lyra's closest lookalike. If you're not familiar with her, then do a quick google search (you can tell me if you disagree with my imaginings, I always like to know what people picture when they read things). As for the other characters, I haven't really found their real-life doppelgangers yet – when I do, you'll be the first to know though!**

 **Sometimes I hear a song I like and it inspires me to write a certain scene or just forms a connection to the stories I write. Although I didn't listen to this song on repeat as I wrote this scene (yes, that does happen sometimes, and yes, sometimes listening to a song on repeat for half an hour can send you a bit loopy), I wanted to introduce a song to you guys now as I'll be doing it a bit later in the story. I'm not going to put in any lyrics but if you want, please give it a listen and please tell me if you think it fits.**

 **The song for this chapter is** _ **All the King's Horses by Karmina.**_

 **Okay, enough from me and this insanely long AN. Enjoy the show!**

* * *

' _And if you were anyone else – if I didn't know you – I may have been able to convince myself that everything you did, you did to protect me. But the only thing you care for more than family, is yourself . . . I was the consolation prize you never wanted, and the burden you never thought you'd have to bear.'_

* * *

She stood still amongst the chaos. From all around her there was noise and smoke. The world had become a muffled ring of deafening confusion.

The whistles of the conductor, of the train, the high-pitched shrieks of various animals blending together to create a loud, messy animal cry. The constant stream of chatter flowed throughout the platform and washed over her in steady waves, broken every so often by a particularly enthusiastic call of excitement of the cry of a younger child. Even from a short distance behind her, she could hear Mrs Potter fussing over her son, who was squirming away from her as she tried to pin his Head Boy badge to his jumper pocket.

But it was all white noise to her, she couldn't pay attention to any of it. She didn't notice the great plumes of smoke rolling like storm clouds over her. She didn't take in the sight of the gleaming red steam engine that stood before her, even though she was looking right at it.

She didn't hear, see or feel any of these things because all her efforts were being put into not turning to face the one thing she _was_ aware of.

Without even looking she knew exactly where they stood. The intensity of their glares made the side of her neck itch. Every muscle was tensed to stop her from fidgeting. She wasn't even sure _who_ they were glaring at.

The Potter's were still behind her – Mrs Potter was now trying to flatten James' hair. Sirius was standing next to him in throws of laughter. It was just like Sirius not to notice what was happening.

But she'd noticed who was standing across the platform as soon as they'd arrived.

Someone moved to stand close by her side. If possible she stilled even further. That was until she felt fingers reach out and brush gently against her own. As soon as she felt the calloused skin next to hers she felt herself relax. But she dare not relax too much, appearances had to be maintained, especially with _them_ watching.

After a moment the steam engine let out a blaring whistle.

Carefully, Lyra turned and looked up finding that Remus was already watching her.

He was the epitome of calm. Concern lurked behind his eyes too, but he hid it well. He raised his eyebrows.

 _Ready?_

Lyra breathed deeply, turned back to the train and nodded.

 _Ready._

She never looked behind her to see her parent's hard faces.

XXXX

They always say that when one door closes another one opens. But Lyra had just entered an impossibly long, dark corridor. She couldn't see the door at the end of it and the one behind her was starting to creak every-so-slowly shut. Sometimes she felt herself alone in the corridor, in the darkness that stretched before her. Then there were times like now. Sitting in the compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express as it chugged out of London with Sirius next to her, with Remus opposite her, and James and Peter next to him, she felt like maybe, just maybe she could take just a few steps towards the darkness, towards the door she hoped was there, waiting ajar with a glowing light behind it.

The train rattled, sending a jolt of pain straight to her middle. It took all her concentration not to wince.

She'd tried asking Mrs Potter exactly what curse it was that she'd been hit with. She got the distinct impression that Mrs Potter knew, or at least had strong suspicions, but she only ever pursed her lips and shook her head, saying that she'd never come across anything of this nature, but that she was confident that the salve would be enough to heal them fully. For some reason, this annoyed Lyra, she just wasn't sure whether it was the fact that Mrs Potter was more than likely lying to her, or that she was simply not used to being vulnerable – to being hurt so obviously – in front of anyone, anyone except Sirius that is.

'Well, I don't know about you lot,' said the boy himself, suddenly standing, 'but I'm bored out of my mind.' He slapped James over the shoulder, pushing him at the same time to stand as well. 'Come on, surely there's something to do on this train. Maybe we can find the trolley.'

James shook his head, half amused, half disbelieving. 'You have some sort of disorder, you realise?' He got to his feet. 'Is it really that hard for you to stay still for longer than thirty minutes?'

'Yes, apparently. Let's go.'

Sirius was already out in the corridor, James not far behind him when he turned back. 'Pete, tag along?'

As was so often the case, Peter lit up with the prospect of being included. He'd become much better at hiding this, but Lyra could still clearly see the admiration, the surprise that brightened his eyes. He nodded eagerly and joined the others in the corridor.

'Great,' Sirius beamed. 'I'm starving.'

'Be careful!' Lyra called, smirking at Remus when he gave her a questioning look.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. 'What d'you mean?'

'I heard rumours late last year that some of the girls have been trying to brew a love potion to slip you.' She looked from one boy to another. 'All of you actually.' She tried not to frown too much when she looked at Remus.

'Do you really think I'm going to just accept whatever food is given to me? Do you _really_ think I'm that dim?'

Remus and Lyra didn't even look at each other as they said 'Yes!' in perfect harmony.

James snorted with laughter. Peter looked as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh along with James or mirror Sirius' bitter eye roll.

'Trust me,' Sirius said, ignoring James completely. 'There's only one girl who scares me and I'm pretty sure she's not about to slip me a love potion.' And he was off down the corridor.

They all smirked after him. They knew who Sirius was speaking of, and Lyra had to agree with him. Of all the girls on the train right now, the one least likely to try to seduce her brother was Marlene McKinnon. And thank Merlin for it.

And then it was just Remus and Lyra alone in the compartment. Silence fell for a while, both of them seemingly content to simply watching the scenery go by. Or, rather, Lyra was content to watch the scenery – as she discovered when turning her head, Remus was seemingly content to watch her.

She couldn't help the smile that grew as a result of his attentions.

'What?'

Remus returned the smile. 'I realised that I haven't given you your Christmas present yet.'

It was true. As soon as she'd awoken James had practically thrown her present into her lap. She'd laughed at his child-like enthusiasm as he stood over her urging her to open it. She made sure to thank him with as much enthusiasm as she could muster as she unwrapped the beautiful journal he had gifted her.

'Well,' Lyra said. 'Where is it, then?' She searched his face, almost expecting him to glance at wherever he'd hidden it, but he just grinned, an edge of mischief to it.

'You'll have to wait a little longer for it, I'm afraid.' At her look of open-mouthed disbelief, Remus shrugged. 'What can I say? I'm all about the suspense.'

Lyra couldn't help but release a chuckle as she shook her head. She made to turn back to the window when she noticed Remus' expression. She knew he wanted to say something, and from the triangle forming between his eyebrows, she wasn't sure she wanted to prod it out of him. She bit her lip when he started to open his mouth and had to restrain a sigh when the carriage door slid open.

'Finally, I've found you!' Mary MacDonald stood in the door way, her face washed with relief as she took in Remus. 'Lily's been looking for you, for some unearthly reason she wants to hold a Prefects meeting, Merlin knows why though, I mean we don't have much of the school year left to organise . . . Oh, hi Lyra!'

Lyra blinked. She didn't think she'd ever get used to Mary MacDonald. She was just so spirited . . . and she didn't let anything get in the way of it either. A part of Lyra admired her for it, the greater part of her couldn't help but feel exhausted just from hearing the girl speak.

'Well, what are you waiting for? Lily's probably having an aneurism waiting for us to get there, Merlin knows she's already having a fit because James hasn't shown up yet.'

Remus merely offered an amused half-smile as he got up. With one last look at Lyra he followed Mary out of the compartment. Lyra watched him leave, listening to Mary talk without breath until she was out of hearing range. Normally she would have allowed herself to smile after the girl, but now she simply sighed and rested her head against the window. Pressing a little harder against it as the train rattled again. She opened her eyes and leant back in her seat, watching the scenery pass by her.

At last, some peace and quiet. It was the first time she had been truly alone in a week. Even when she was sleeping in the Potter's guest bedroom, she knew that one of James' parents would check in on her throughout the night. But now, with James and Remus in the Prefects carriage, and Sirius and Peter off Merlin knows where, she finally had a moment with nothing but the tell-tale signs of the clicking train tracks underfoot to comfort her.

Shunned, that's what she was now . . . her and Sirius . . . shunned from a society that had never truly wanted either of them in the first place. Needed, perhaps. Wanted, never. And perhaps they were better off without that world, those people, but where were they now?

They were grey, stuck somewhere between light and darkness, but she would allow herself to be smothered by the light and she would be glad for it.

'There you are!'

Lyra only noticed how tight her forehead was from her frowning when she looked away from the window. But upon seeing Marlene, followed by Dorcas Meadows, coming into the compartment, Lyra let out a smile.

'We've been looking for you everywhere!' Marlene fell somewhat lazily into the seat opposite Lyra.

Lyra stood to greet them both. She hadn't seen them since before Christmas. She knew that Marlene had visited the Potter's at least once whilst she was there – Sirius had grumbled about her attempting a house invasion, whatever that had meant – but Lyra hadn't been conscious at the time.

Dorcas threw her arms around Lyra and squeezed as tightly as she dared. This caution was not missed by Lyra.

She looked over Dorcas' shoulder to Marlene.

'So, I may have told her.'

Lyra lifted her eyebrows at Marlene, Dorcas still not breaking the hug.

'Everything.' Marlene answered the unasked question with ease.

Lyra rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to her current situation.

'Dorcas,' she mumbled. 'Dorcas, it's fine . . . I'm fine, really.' Lyra patted Dorcas' shoulder and after a moment or two, Dorcas peeled herself away from her friend. Lyra sat back down in her seat next to the window exchanging a look with Marlene. Dorcas, however, remained standing.

'Why didn't you write me?' Dorcas' voice shook a little. 'Why did I have to find everything out from _her_?' Dorcas pointed to Marlene, her eyes never leaving Lyra's.

Marlene scoffed. 'And what, may I ask, is so affronting about receiving information from me?'

Dorcas shot her a withering look. The two had been at odds ever since the start of the term. Lyra still wasn't entirely sure as to why that was, but she wasn't about to get in the middle of it.

'I'm sorry Dorcas,' Lyra interjected. 'I wanted to write you, but Mr and Mrs Potter didn't want me sending _any_ mail out. Sirius couldn't send mail out either.'

'Yeah well all Sirius' friends knew where he was, didn't they?' She plonked down in the space next to Marlene.

Lyra could only apologise again before silence fell, interrupted only by the sound of the train moving along the tracks. Lyra resumed watching the scenery.

'So you're really okay, then?' Came a small voice.

Lyra looked across to see Dorcas staring at her – a Healer in the making. She offered her friend what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

'I really am.' There was something hidden in those words, some deeper feeling that Lyra didn't intend on expressing, she wasn't even sure if she meant it. But it seemed to be enough for Dorcas, whose face split into a broad grin as she launched into telling the girls everything that had happened to her over the holidays.

'And then we visited my great-aunt in Greece! I'd not met her before but she seemed thrilled to have such a 'special young lady' in the family.' Dorcas said the last part in a thick Greek accent, her giggling made Lyra chuckle where Marlene rolled her eyes, a small smile toying around her mouth.

Dorcas was a muggle-born and she seemed to have relatives scattered all over the world. Every chance her and her parents got, they would visit whoever was free at the time. She always came back to Hogwarts with the most exciting stories.

At least someone had had a pleasant Christmas.

Dorcas had just started telling the girls about her distant cousin who she'd been introduced to for the first time when the compartment door slid open with a thud.

'And you tell _him_ that I don't give a horse's arse how high up in the ministry his father is,' Sirius yelled to someone they couldn't see further down the corridor, 'if he wants to sort this out like a real man instead of cowering behind you lot, he knows where to find me!' He turned with a grin to find himself facing a compartment full of bewildered looking girls.

Well Dorcas was bewildered, she had stopped talking as soon as she saw that it was Sirius who had opened the door. Her face flushed when Sirius looked over her briefly.

'Ladies,' Sirius' grin grew as he tilted his head, taking the seat next to his sister. Lyra rolled her eyes as he sat, looking away from him. Her glare deepened as she saw the sly grin on Marlene's face, her eyes mischievous as she regarded Sirius.

'And who were you talking to then?'

Sirius looked to Marlene and looked conflicted for a moment before saying, with an air of triumph, 'Oh, no one you should be too worried about.' He winked at Dorcas whose flush deepened a shade. His grin vanished however as he looked next to him and was met with Lyra's icy flat stare. 'What?'

She shook her head and looked out to the hills that were quickly becoming darker and more jagged as the train flew past them. She could still feel Sirius's eyes on her but her jaw was set firmly.

After a minute or two Marlene stood. 'Let's go Dee, I'm starving, that witch must be somewhere nearby.'

Dorcas, after casting more than a few unsure looks around the compartment, got up and followed Marlene out in search for the Trolley Lady.

The silence was almost palpable, but Lyra was determined. If she weren't so mad, she would have smirked when she felt the seat shift and saw Sirius sit down across from her.

'So are you going to tell me what's wrong, or am I going to finally have a chance to see if I can do Legilimency?'

Lyra continued to stare out at the hills, which had now turned to shades of black and brown rather than the green it had been not so long ago.

'Lyra.'

'I just!' The next words died in her mouth when she looked at him. Despite his tone, he was frowning intently at her. 'I just don't think you should be picking fights is all,' she mumbled, picking at the sleeves of her jumper.

'I wasn't picking a fight!' Sirius said, affronted. Sighing, he leant back into the seat, running a hand roughly through his hair. 'It's not my fault half this school is full of absolute pricks.'

'Will you stop doing that!'

'Doing what?'

'Acting like everything is a joke! It's not Sirius!' Sirius' face fell. 'Things have changed.'

'You think I don't know that?' Sirius stood up so quickly that Lyra flinched. 'After everything that's happened over the last few weeks, Lyra, trust me, I know.'

He stood, watching her, she had closed her eyes, her jaw set once more. He sat with a huff, realising that she was done talking.

Once she heard him sit down again, Lyra opened her eyes, looking at the floor by her brother's feet.

'Look,' Sirius said, leaning forward. 'I know we never really finished talking about what happened. But if you ever want to . . .'

'Do you?' She said quickly, finally meeting his hardened look. He held it for a moment before sighing and looking out the window, not really seeing anything.

Until they were re-joined by the girls, and then later by James, Remus, Peter and Lily, the twins sat in silence, both seemingly intent on ignoring the other.

When the others arrived Sirius and Lyra immersed themselves in their own separate friendship groups. They ignored the pointed looks the others cast when they realised that Sirius and Lyra were indeed talking to everyone else but each other.

XXXXXXX

Sirius took a seat across from Remus and Lyra at the Gryffindor table, making sure he had his back facing the Slytherins. He couldn't help but scowl at Lyra as he heard a burst of snide laughter come from behind him.

Why did she always have to do this? Over think everything. Part of him knew that she was just being cautious . . . it was dangerous for her not to be. But the Slytherins deserved whatever he dished out to them.

He tried to ignore the cackling laughter behind him by focussing on what was going on around him. Something he immediately regretted for he was met with a most unpleasant sight.

'Urgh, do you two have to do that in public? You're making the food go bad.'

James and Lily pulled away from each other, both smirking over at him.

'Oh, are we making you uncomfortable, Sirius?' James asked, not sounding genuine in the slightest. He turned to Lily. 'What d'you reckon?' He asked her, 'Should we consider this payback?

Lily snorted. 'I reckon we'd have to do a lot more for us to be even, don't you?'

James and Peter burst out laughing. Sirius added his own sarcastic chuckle to the mix.

But as he sat laughing with James and Peter he noticed that the two across the table were unusually quiet.

Remus was smirking along with everything that was being said but it was clear that his attention was divided.

Lyra – her friends completely ignored by her – was inspecting the table, the silverware, the goblets, but her eyes would flicker to somewhere across the room every now and then, the rims of silver that encircled her pupil swirling slightly. She would hastily return to inspecting the goods on the table after a few seconds.

Sirius turned slightly in his seat.

There, laughing amongst a group of his housemates, sat Regulus. Sirius could've growled, in fact he wasn't so sure he hadn't.

The boy had never once cared for them or anything that happened to them. They were better off without him, without their whole family. He made that clear when he tried to talk Sirius out of leaving that day. Sirius spun back around to tell this to Lyra but found that he was too late.

Remus had leaned in closer to her, offering her a small smile.

'You okay?'

Lyra paused, seeming slightly stunned as if she had thought that she and Regulus were the only two people in the Hall. She quickly blinked away her shock.

'Yeah . . . yeah, I'm fine.' She quickly turned away from Remus and the others, apparently suddenly very interested in whatever the other girls were talking about.

As the feast ended and everyone started to make their way back to their Common Rooms, Sirius watched his brother walk out of the Great Hall. Regulus seemed much more like a young boy than Sirius had ever known him to be.

 _Things have changed._

XXXX

The Gryffindor Common Room was quiet but for the last crackles of the dying fire. Everyone had long since gone up to their dormitories, eager to sleep the night away in hopes that the first day of classes would somehow arrive just that bit earlier. Everyone, that is, but for a black-haired, silver eyed girl who lay dozing on the plush lounge in front of the fire.

And as the embers of the fire sparked and sizzled, the girl let out a small moan, tossing, her features tightening.

' _What did you say to me?'_

 _Never before had Lyra seen her father so angry. He seemed to tower over everything and everyone in the small room, taking up every facet of it. His wand was held tightly by his side, his knuckles white, skin taught._

 _Lyra silently pleaded with Sirius to just, for once, keep his mouth shut, to not rise to the bait. Her throat constricted painfully when Sirius stepped forward._

' _You heard me you crazed-'_

 _With a deep growl, Orion Black seized Sirius shirt collar._

' _No!' Lyra tried to step in between the two. She felt the tips of her fingers burn almost painfully but she balled them into fists, willing the sensation to retreat back within herself._

 _Orion hit her across her cheek with the back of his closed fist, she hit the end of her bed frame around the ribs and landed on the wooded floor with a gasp. Orion pulled his son towards the landing outside without so much as a backwards glance at his daughter who now lay bleeding behind him._

 _Lyra scrambled to her feet as Sirius started spitting curses at his father, swearing his rage at the pain done to his sister. Lyra took another desperate step towards him, holding her hands out for him when she was caught from behind._

' _Sirius!'_

 _Her mother's strong grip around her middle had Lyra reeling backwards from Sirius' panicked face._

 _And then Sirius was calling out her name just as desperately as she was calling his._

' _You've had this coming for a long time, boy!' Orion snarled as he finally managed to get to Lyra's bedroom door._

 _With one more almighty tug, Lyra momentarily broke free of her mother's hold. She only just managed to grab hold of Sirius's hand for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough._

 _The burning sensation from before came back with a vengeance and rolled from her fingertips in warm, powerful waves into Sirius' own hand._

 _He stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open as he shook his head ever so slightly at what she had just done for him. In return she managed to release a very watery, very bloody smile that she hoped passed as a reassuring one._

' _No! Lyra!'_

 _And then they were separated again, and Sirius was pulled, screaming Lyra's name, from her room by their father whilst Lyra, sobbing, calling out to her brother, struggling in the vice-like grip of their mother. Then she felt the tip of a wand press deep into the side of her neck, she stopped struggling at once._

A door slammed shut, someone other than Sirius was calling out to her and her eyes flew open, she jumped from the lounge but two strong, rough hands gently stopped her.

'Woah!'

And then Remus was frowning down at her. They were in an empty Gryffindor Common Room, not her bedroom at Grimmauld Place, and it was Remus, not her parents, not Sirius, who knelt before her.

With a shaky breath, she flung herself into his arms and he embraced her just as strongly. When she pulled back she found him smiling softly, but there was undiluted worry in his eyes.

She stared at him, looking over every inch of his face, from the lightly coloured hair, to the soft eyes that were edged with amber, to every scar that marred his skin. She leaned into him and their lips met.

As she melted into him, into his touch and scent and skin she felt lighter than she had in weeks. In his arms, she realised where she was and who she was there with.

When they finally pulled away from one another Remus was holding something . . . something that caught the light of the fire and glinted through the darkness.

'Remus, it's beautiful!' Lyra breathed as she beheld the silver ring in his hands.

He smiled lightly as he slid it onto her finger. It was, in all respects, simple: two thin bands of gleaming silver weaved in and out and over the top of one another – there was no beginning and no end to it and it shone warmth in the firelight.

'Welcome home, Lyra,' came Remus' voice, it too bathed in warmth.

XXXXXXXXXXX

A single envelope waited for him on his bed when he trudged into his dormitory that night. After making sure no one had followed him into the room and that he was indeed alone, he opened it and read.

 _I have discussed your plan to my business partners. They agree with it's potential and have agreed that if their chosen strategy fails then your plan may be called upon._

 _They were impressed by your approach in this venture._

 _Be sure not to disappoint them._

 _It's almost time._

There was no name at the bottom, no address on the envelope, but Regulus knew who had sent it.

As he tossed the letter into the fire he watched it curling in on itself, being pushed inwards by the flames surrounding it. He watched as the cream of the parchment became dark, became frayed and eventually, became nothing.

Even after it had become one with that which had destroyed it, after it had become completely indistinguishable from the blaze, Regulus kept watching.

* * *

 **I also decided to add in the new(ish) character of Mary MacDonald. It always bothered me that I'd forgotten to put in a Seventh Year Female Gryffindor Prefect. Thoughts? :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! Sorry it's been such a long time (or it's felt like a long time anyways) life's just become a little hard… I'm working two jobs and I'm about to lose someone very dear to me, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again, I just wanted to give you guys something before that happens.**

 **As always please feel free to leave a comment. No matter how small, they always help to brighten my day. :)**

* * *

 _She had been so terribly wrong. There was something worse than the sound of Regulus' screams . . . so much worse._

* * *

Lyra came out of the bathroom, jar of pink salve in her hands. It was working, for the most part. Her stomach was still ghastly, thick dirty red scars standing up from her skin that prickled uncomfortably. She had started to resent her school uniform as the cotton would rub constantly against her wounds, making them itch and throb.

She'd taken to changing in the bathroom, the others didn't need to worry over her condition. She'd had enough worrying glances and words of comfort over the last week to last her a lifetime. She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, ready to leave for breakfast, when Lily noticed her.

'Lyra?'

Lyra let go of the door handle after a quick, soft sigh through her nose. Turning she found Lily standing in the middle of the room – the empty room, other than themselves. Lyra groaned internally as she forced a polite, questioning smile on her mouth.

Lily's nostrils were flaring and she was absentmindedly playing with the cuff of her shirt. Lyra's curiosity was suddenly sparked. But she still waited for Lily to speak. Assumptions lead only to trouble.

'I was wondering if you'd like to walk down to breakfast together?'

 _Not really_. Lyra nodded. 'Sure.'

The two girls walked in a somewhat comfortable silence.

Despite being in the same year and house and having shared a room for the past six and a half years, Lily and Lyra had only started to get to know one another since the beginning of this year. Lyra supposed that their dormitory had always been somewhat split. Dorcas and she were on friendly terms with everyone but it was common knowledge, despite it never being commented on, that Lily and Marlene weren't really that keen on each other. The two were just too different – Lily valued reliability and structures whereas those were two things that made the top of Marlene's list to scoff at. This left Dorcas, Mary and Lyra to play peacemaker, with Dorcas entertaining Lily, Mary playing go between with the lot of them, that left Lyra to deal with Marlene's blunt sense of humour – not an altogether horrible option, seeing as the alternative was having Lily and Marlene engaging in some pretty lengthy and heated debates over the merits of school.

They were almost at the Great Hall – the growing sound of chatter drifting towards them – when Lily spoke.

'I heard about what happened over Christmas,' she said in a rush. 'I'm really sorry.'

To say that Lyra was surprised was only half true. Remus had mentioned his suspicions that James may have written her shortly after the twins arrived at the Potters.

'I didn't know what you two were going through. If I had . . .'

 _You might have been a tad nicer?_ Lyra shook her head, now was not the time to start acting like Sirius.

'Lily, it's okay . . . Really,' she added, seeing the unsure look on Lily's face.

'Are you – I mean, you're alright now, though?' Lily said after another moment's silence.

Lyra tried to appear as if she hadn't noticed how the Head Girl's gaze had flickered to her stomach.

'I am.' _For the most part._

Lily smile reeked of forced understanding. 'Well if you ever want anyone to talk to . . .'

Lyra's stomach twisted for the second time that morning. 'Uh, thanks Lily.'

When they reached the Great Hall, Lyra immediately scanned the length of the Gryffindor table. She spotted Marlene, Dorcas and Mary about a quarter of the way down. Dorcas and Marlene seemed to be going about things normally, buttering their toasts , reading the paper. And if it weren't for Mary, sitting between the two, looking from one to the other as if they were about to start yelling, Lyra might have allowed herself to relax. But now it was clear the neither girl was talking, or even looking at each other. Actually, they rather seemed to be ignoring one another completely.

Mary looked away from the two long enough to see Lily and Lyra approaching. Her shoulders visibly sagged.

Lyra sat across from Marlene who simply nodded at her in acknowledgment. Dorcas beamed at her which only stoked Lyra's confusion. She'd been expecting a polite smile, maybe a cheerful 'good morning', but Dorcas' smile was almost too wide, and slightly . . . tight, to have been considered normal.

 _Probably still worried about what happened to me . . . Probably._

But like so many things that happened lately, Lyra couldn't summon the strength to care, let alone to try and understand whatever was going on. So, she just returned the smile as best she could, picked up a spare paper sitting in the middle of the table and started to read, absentmindedly reaching for some toast and trying to ignore how light her stomach felt.

'So, what do you think _really_ happened to Samps?' Dorcas said, finally deciding to be the one to break the heavy tension.

'Isn't is obvious? He retired . . . I swear we all agreed on this months ago.'

'Oh come off it, he wasn't even that old. And besides, no one asked for _your_ opinion, Marlene!'

'You asked a question, I answered. I'm not sure how you were raised but I've always been under the impression that that's how the whole socialising thing is supposed to work.'

'I happened to be asking the others.'

'They're not even listening to you!'

'McKinnon!' Lily warned, all of them ignoring Mary who just sat spluttering indignantly that she was listening.

From behind that day's copy of The Daily Prophet, Lyra heaved a silent sigh as she tried to focus on the article rather than the two girls opposite her.

It might have been a stretch to say that Marlene and Dorcas were best friends, but they usually got on better than this – and on the first day back no less. They must have talked their way into an argument last night because they'd at least been civil to each other on the train.

And they were quickly beginning to give Lyra a headache.

Her eyes narrowed however as she found that she kept looking up to the Head Table as well.

The Head Table was almost empty. The first day back must have had most of the Professor's busy preparing their first lessons, no doubt wanting to remind their students that Christmas was now well and truly behind them . . . and end of year exams, OWLS and NEWTS stood before them. But one of the few who had decided that breakfast was just as important was Professor Antone, the young Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. He was eating quietly by himself, looking up every now and then, uninterestedly inspecting the students before him.

The students who had noticed him, however, were very interested – especially those of the female persuasion. Lyra supposed that such a youthful Professor would have that affect though, especially when the old Defence Professor was so withered he stood in a permanent hunch.

There had been a lot of speculation about Antone's age. The agreement had been made that he couldn't have been out of school for very long, ten years at the most. Although where he went to school was a different matter entirely. He was rather lean and tanned. His pale eyes were made even brighter, like blue marble gleaming from its place in the earth.

Lyra tried not to look directly at him as she studied him, she didn't know how she'd react to being caught spying. If it weren't for the fact that he unnerved her, Lyra knew that she'd through in her lot with the rest of the females in the school and admit how attractive he was.

' _Besides, Dorcas,_ everyone knows the only opinion of yours that truly matters are those about se-'

Lyra silently groaned, closing her eyes as the girl's bickering became louder. She looked back at the paper, trying to read the rest of the article whose subject matter she could no longer remember.

'Just because _you_ can't get any, McKinnon!'

Lyra was just about to throw the paper down and join Lily in telling them to shut up when something suddenly stopped her – several things in fact.

Feeling the side of her face warm a little she looked to her right, her eyes going straight back to the Head Table where Professor Antone still sat, not even hiding the fact that he was looking right at her. She was thankful for an excuse to look away as someone knocked into her as they sat down beside her.

'Sorry, Lyra,' James said reaching for the orange juice.

Lyra was about to check the Head Table again just as the sound of hundreds of wings came from above. She didn't bother looking for her owl, knowing that Aries had arrived at Hogwarts weeks before she had. She jumped a little when a letter was dropped in front of her, looking up just in time to see Aries flying away in a hurry.

Everyone sitting around her stopped, their own letters falling unnoticed beside them. Lyra felt sick as she looked down and saw the familiar cursive. She glanced up at Sirius and felt both relieved and a little frightened to note that he had no letter in front of him.

When she touched it, pulling it towards her, she did so with such caution the others couldn't help but feel nervous, it was like they were all waiting for it to explode. Lyra turned it over and was about to rip through the seal when,

'Wait!' Sirius said suddenly.

Lyra looked at him for a moment nodding her reassurance to him, which he returned with just a touch of hesitation, his wide eyes moving back to the letter, watching intently as she tore it open in one fluid motion.

There was a collective sigh when nothing happened. But then she started reading . . . she could feel the colour drain from her face. She was vaguely aware that the parchment had started to shiver as the tips of her fingers grew numb. She wasn't sure she was breathing as she held the letter out for Sirius to take without thinking. He snatched it from her trembling fingers and his face contorted in rage as his eyes flew across the parchment.

'That fucking cow!' Sirius spluttered profanities and suddenly started looking wildly about the Hall, blind to everything but what he sought. His eyes suddenly narrowed and he stood abruptly, stalking off.

'Sirius!?' Lily called after him. She looked back to Lyra who was staring blankly at the table, her eyelid attempting a blink every few seconds. Lily looked up, about to ask what the hell was going on but James spoke, the letter in his hands now.

'It's their mother,' James said, reading the letter as quickly as he could. 'She's,' he paused, glancing at the others. 'She's begging for Lyra's forgiveness.' He returned to the letter. 'She says that if Lyra reconciles with them now then all "past transgressions" will be forgotten. She vows that Lyra will be protected if she accepts their offer.' He paused again, unsuccessfully holding back a frustrated snort. 'She also says that none of these terms apply to Sirius, that his actions can't be forgiven so easily.'

The others, who had fallen into a disbelieving stupor, all flinched and jumped when loud voices erupted from the next table.

'To hell with you, you insufferable little git!'

Sirius was standing across the table from Regulus, who was also standing. And every single person in the Great Hall at that moment realised that if it hadn't been for the table separating them, the two brothers would have already come to blows.

To his credit, Regulus was standing straight backed and proud, his expression of defiance firmly set. The feathering of his jaw was the only tell-tale sign of nervousness, and he had every right to be nervous. Everyone knew that, for all his joking and levity, Sirius Black was terrifying and had the potential to be extremely dangerous when pushed, all one had to do was see his mock duels in Defence Against the Dark Arts and the way his eyes flashed when he came across of group of Slytherins to know that.

The teachers who were still eating breakfast up at the Head Table were quick to their feet, Professor McGonagall taking the lead towards the boys.

Sirius was shaking as he whipped out his wand, everyone in the hall gasped, expecting Sirius to aim at his brother, but instead, Sirius pointed it towards the Gryffindor table. Mrs Black's letter flew from James' hand and soared to Sirius' waiting fist.

Sirius leant across the table, thrusting the crumpled letter into Regulus' chest, the impact of Sirius' clenched fist hitting his brother squarely in the chest sounded a loud _thunk_ throughout the Hall.

'You tell that _loathsome_ old slag,' Sirius shouted, his voice trembling from fury, 'that the only thing _her daughter_ needs to be protected from is _them_! And if they _ever_ come near her or me again, I will gladly repay them for their past kindness!' And with that, Sirius turned to his right, extended his arms wide in a mock bow and smiled at McGonagall who had reached him at last. 'Minnie!' Sirius called, with apparently no hint of his previous outburst. 'After you,' he said, bowing deeper still and ushering her past him, as soon as she passed, Sirius' ferocious glare returned and he stalked behind the enraged Professor from the Hall.

While Sirius followed McGonagall, Professor Galile, the Divination teacher, was quickly escorting Regulus from the Hall.

Those sitting at the Gryffindor table all slowly turned, silent, to Lyra. She was frowning at the spot her brothers had stood moments before, she shook slightly as James wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him. He rubbed her arm gently, quietly telling her that it was going to be alright, but his voice was cut off by another.

'Miss Black.'

Professor Flitwick stood behind them, shuffling his feet slightly as he regarded the girl.

'I'm terribly sorry, Miss Black, but I am going to have to ask you to follow me.'

Lyra nodded her head numbly and rose from the table.

As she followed the little Professor, Lyra felt the back of her neck heat up. She looked behind her as she exited the Hall to find Professor Antone looking right back at her, an expression she was afraid to interpret enflaming his eyes.

So focussed was she on Antone, she didn't notice Rabastan Lestrange looking at her with a terrifying cold grin curling around his face.

XXXX

Sirius was still shaking as he pushed himself further into the seat in Professor McGonagall's office. The thought of his brother, no doubt sitting smugly in the chair next to him was more than enough to fuel his anger.

How dare they think that they could worm their way back into Lyra's life. After everything they'd done to her, after they tried to kill her! It was far, far too late for that – even if it was a possibility – which of course it wasn't, it was absurd, it was infuriating! His Mother had disinherited them . . . both of them. Something like that couldn't just be undone with a frivolous, shallow letter. Words weren't enough to wash away so much blood . . . blood that Regulus saw . . . he was just as guilty as those who caused it to spill in the first place.

He didn't think he'd ever wanted to hurt anyone more in his life . . .

The door to the office opened, then closed. Lyra appeared in his periphery and took the seat beside him. He didn't look at her, instead he ground his teeth, not letting his eyes stray from Professor McGonagall who, at the present moment, looked downright murderous.

'Now I realise that certain events have occurred over the most recent holidays that have caused a rift to form between the three of you,' she said, her nostrils flaring, 'but that does not give you any excuse to begin rioting within the halls of this school! As students of Hogwarts it is expected that you act in a manner befitting both your age and your education.'

While her attention had previously been separated between the three of them, McGonagall now focussed solely on the two boys. 'If I hear of another outburst, of any un-pleasantries of any kind, no matter how small or discreet, that take place between any of you, you will face much more serious consequences than the ones you are facing right now.' She sighed and leant back in her chair. 'You will all be receiving separate detentions – Mr Black,' she said, looking this time to Regulus, 'I will talk to Professor Slughorn who will inform you of the details – and I wouldn't rule out the possibility of Professor Dumbledore wanting to talk to you all as well in the coming days.'

Sirius shot from his chair. 'But Lyra-!'

McGonagall rose with speed Sirius would never have expected to see from her, she slammed her open palms on the table top. 'Enough, Mr Black!'

Sirius took half a step back.

'You and Mr Black are free to go, you will both go straight to your first lessons and if I hear that you have made even the slightest detour than you will be back here explaining yourself to the Headmaster.'

Sirius opened his mouth again.

'I wish to speak to Miss Black privately.' Her tone was final and Sirius knew it. He swept from the room, knuckles deathly white.

Regulus rose slowly from his chair. He didn't acknowledge anyone as he left. It was only after she had heard the door close that Lyra noticed that Regulus had placed something on McGonagall's table, a crumpled piece of parchment, fine cursive writing peeking through.

McGonagall retook her seat with a long, drawn out, tired sigh. She looked at Lyra for a moment, taking in the paleness of her skin, the deep crease of her forehead.

'The Potter's contacted us throughout the holidays, Miss Black,' she said, her voice soft now that they were alone. 'We are aware of how you came to spend the last few days with them but as of yet are unaware of the why.'

She waited for a response from Lyra, maybe she was hoping for an explanation, but none ever came. Lyra wasn't about to be bullied into talking about things that were her business. After a moment McGonagall pursed her lips and continued.

'You will be reporting to Professor Dumbledore for your detention.'

Lyra's head shot up at this, McGonagall raised her hands.

'Not for punishment, my dear, but merely for a discussion. If you wish you may simply spend the time in silence. If I know the Headmaster, he will not push you for information, but it could be beneficial for you to offer it. If there is one person who can help you, Miss Black, it is Albus Dumbledore.' She waited again. 'Do you understand?'

Lyra's brain was telling her that she was nodding, yet she couldn't feel it, she was struggling to feel anything but the burning in her fingertips.

'Very well,' McGonagall said, 'you are free to leave. Straight to your first lesson, if you please,' she warned as Lyra rose.

Lyra neither noticed nor cared if McGonagall saw what she did next.

As she left the office, she finally felt something. She felt a single tear trail down her cheek, along with the coarseness of the crumpled piece of parchment in her fist.

When she was finally free of the office, of prying eyes, when she had reached the security of an empty corridor, she let the flood gates in her fingers open and she did not have to look down to know that the tips of her fingers were glowing. Still walking, she let go of the letter and it rose to float in front of her face, it uncurled before her eyes and with a mere twitch of her fingers that were still by her side, the letter burst into flames.

The last thing Lyra read were the words _come home, my daughter._ She flexed her hands when there was nothing left and made her way to the fifth floor.

As she cleared the corridor a figure stepped out from behind a statue. Their eyes trailed after her, as if they could see through the stone walls to where she walked. The figure's lips curled, their eyes hungry as they slunk back down the corridor in the opposite direction.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm back! I got this one out quicker than I thought I would. Bit of a Sirius-centric chapter this one.**

 **For the Guest who reviewed on Chapter Six – I know what you mean. I never really picture anyone in particular when I read characters, or even when I write them, but I dunno, whenever I watch Adelaide Kane (especially in Reign) I just think that she's the closest I can come to picturing what Lyra would look like.**

 **Just to clarify for everyone the blocks of text in italics _during_ the chapter are going to be flashbacks. I needed to add them in seeing as I've changed the timeline somewhat and started midway through seventh year and not at the start of it.**

 **Thanks and I hope you like it.**

* * *

' _Whatever it is you came to say, I wish you'd just say it.' Every bone in her body ached, just the thought of speaking was exhausting. She just wanted to sleep, to forget, and she couldn't do any of that with Sirius forcing her to relive it all._

 _'That day at Hogwarts, with the boggart . . . you saw something else, didn't you?'_

 _Lyra needed to forget . . . she needed it to stop._

 _'I know you did, Lyra, because I saw it too . . . It's never going to happen.'_

 _Lyra sighed and pushed away from the fence, ignoring the fact that every muscle in her body groaned in protest. 'It already has.'_

* * *

As instructed, Sirius went straight to his first lesson and arrived at the fifth-floor corridor classroom well before anyone else had even left breakfast. He threw himself into a chair to the side of the room and let a calm fury overwhelm him as he sat still and silent.

The contents of the letter kept flashing through his mind. He heard his mother's simpering, false voice, _terribly worried . . . hasn't been the same without you . . . please come home._ Sirius ground his teeth. He knew he should feel bad about causing such a scene in front of so many people, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

If he ever saw his parents again, he wouldn't even try to hold back his rage, and he had no doubt that he'd enjoy it, too.

So caught up in trying to ignore the echoes of his mother's voice, Sirius jumped slightly as the classroom's doors banged opened. Lyra entered and as she did, something suddenly changed.

With the castle being firmly entrenched in winter, the air throughout the castle was constantly cold and thin. Gloves and scarves were now classed as necessary parts of the uniform.

Sirius watched Lyra move through the room. As he did so, however, he noticed a change. The air was quickly growing heavier . . . hotter somehow, no, not hotter, it was more than hot . . . it sizzled.

Lyra's face was stone-like, she took a seat two rows behind Sirius on the opposite side of the room. She couldn't have been further away.

She didn't look at him, didn't even attempt to acknowledge him. Indeed, Sirius was sure Lyra had not even noticed that he was there at all. She sat, her hands gripped together as she stared at the blackboard at the front of the room.

Sirius watched his normally calm sister frown in thought, a muscle in her jaw feathering every so often, but the more he watched, the more uncomfortable he became. He had started absentmindedly scratching his arm. He'd only just noticed how red his skin had become when the itch turned suddenly painful. He tried not to panic but that became all the more difficult when Lyra unclasped her hands and ran them through her hair, pulling them back to reveal glowing fingertips.

'Lyra!'

Lyra whipped around to face him, eyes wide, confirming Sirius' suspicions about her not realising there was anyone else in the room. Quickly, after giving her brother a once over, she blinked. And a rush of cool air swept through the room, instantly easing Sirius' pain.

Lyra's eyelids stuttered before she looked back to the front of the room. 'Sorry.'

'Lyra, look.'

But the sound of growing chatter stopped Sirius and he too twisted in his seat to face the front.

XXXXXX

It was like having your head underwater. She could see everything around her, yet the images were distorted, they seemed to ripple and it was hard to focus, to gain any sort of clarity. She heard voices around her, but they were muffled, she couldn't make out anything but their tone.

But she wasn't allowed to let all of that simply wash over her, she couldn't simply close her eyes, breathe in deeply and sink into blissful unawareness and tranquil confusion. Because she _was_ aware of a handful of facts that pulled on her shoulders, away from the promise of peaceful obliviousness.

She knew that she already had detention. She knew that she hadn't been able to finish any of her Christmas homework and was now dreadfully, sickeningly behind. She knew that she was feeling awful for not remembering to get presents for anyone. She knew that she would not be allowed to merely sit quietly in Dumbledore's office while the old Professor went about the daily routines involved in running a boarding school full of underage witches and wizards. The Headmaster was suspicious enough of her already, Lyra doubted that he'd pass up such an easy opportunity to interrogate her.

But the one thing Lyra knew above all else was that she would never be going back to the place she had grown up in ever again.

She flexed her fingers as they gently throbbed. Students began rushing into the class and taking their seats.

Hiding her hands under the table, she made a point not to look up. The feeling of eyes she couldn't see was enough to deter her from lifting her gaze to try and meet them.

No, even if she had wanted to, Sirius would never allow her to return to Grimmauld Place. _Did she want to?_ Of course didn't, she couldn't after what they'd done to her, to Sirius.

Lyra stretched her fingers and glanced discreetly down at them. The throbbing had subsided. Plain, slightly red skin peered back up at her. It looked as if she'd just washed her hands rather thoroughly.

A sharp cough sounded through the room. There was something about it, a sharp edge to it that made everyone pause. Lyra looked up to see Professor Antone standing at the front of the room. His cold, detached eyes skimmed the tops of the students.

Lyra hoped that she was imagining the way the Professors eyes paused almost unperceivably on her.

She hadn't known the class she was walking into after she'd come from McGonagall's office. Somewhere in the far reaches of her mind the part that was still dutifully focussed on school and study had steered her to the fifth floor. Now with a sharp ache developing in her head, she realised just what her first class was.

Defence Against the Dark Arts . . . Her least favourite subject.

And no, it wasn't because her wand work was normally more on the pathetic side of awful – although that was always embarrassing enough to deter her from any subject – but Defence Against the Dark arts always ran the risk of presenting rather unwelcome surprises . . . Like a lesson they had a couple of months into the term – a lesson she didn't think she would ever soon forget.

 _As soon as she walked in to the classroom she knew she wasn't going to like whatever it was that Antone had planned. She'd had a sinking feeling in her gut ever since they were informed that their lesson had been moved into one of the larger rooms on the fourth floor._

 _There was something about their new professor, he was too young . . . too calm, and not a soothing sort of calm, but an unnerving one. And she always had the strange feeling that Antone looked a bit too long at her sometimes. Whenever this happened she always had to push away the desire to stare back at him . . . challenge him in some way to acknowledge what it was that he was doing._

 _Lyra looked around the room. The chairs had been pushed along the walls leaving the desks to stand in their normal positions but it was obvious that they were not going to being used as they normally would._

 _Unsure of what to do everyone huddled in near the front door, not going too far into the room. Sirius and James could be heard from the back of the small crowd asking loudly what the bloody hell was going on. Everyone ignored them. They were far too interested in Antone who had appeared at the front of the room._

' _You may leave you bags by the door, make your way to a desk and take out your wands, if you please.' He was leaning against his own desk at the front, his ankles crossed lazily, his arms folded before him. He watched as everyone did as he asked, a look of almost boredom on his face, as if what they'd all just walked into was merely another typical lesson._

 _When everyone was standing behind a table, Antone pushed away and stood before them. He let the murmurings fade into silence before speaking._

' _As you all know, I am here to expose your minds to the existence and dangers of the Dark Arts within the wider community and not all these threats will come from corrupt witches or wizards.' Lyra tried not to look across the room as she guessed at what was coming. 'There are creatures that plague this earth, creatures born and bred from dark magic and exist to serve the whims of dark wizards. These are creatures you could potentially face in life after Hogwarts and from what I have seen, your knowledge of them is far less than would be expected of a NEWT level class.' Antone smirked lightly and Lyra had to supress the urge to glare at him. 'Fortunately for you, your headmaster has seen fit to employ me so that I may teach you how to overcome the things you will face.'_

 _Antone's smirk held for a heartbeat before it was blinked away. 'Today I have released a number of creatures around this room. On the bottom of your desks you will find a piece of parchment. Written on the parchment is the destination you will have to reach in order to complete todays lesson.' No one moved . . . even a month or two in, they'd learnt that you didn't do anything in Antone's class until he instructed you to do so. 'You are to get to your destination using defensive spells only. Anyone seen breaking this rule will find themselves explaining their actions to their Head of House. The room is wide enough that you should not cross paths with anyone else.' He paused for another moment, daring anyone to challenge him, Lyra didn't need to turn her head to know that he was giving a levelled stare over to where James and Sirius must have stood. 'You may begin.'_

 _For the most part, the lesson was going better than Lyra could have anticipated. Namely because Marlene had been doing all the wand work whilst Lyra stood beside her reciting spells and wand movements. And what made it better was that no one really seemed to notice that she hadn't raised her wand yet. She'd just started to let the tiniest hint of relief in when something fell out of a desk they were approaching._

 _The rest of the room was doused in silence as flames erupted in front of Marlene and Lyra's eyes. Marlene stepped away immediately but Lyra was frozen. She didn't know whether the silence that had overcome her was real or if the flames went unnoticed by the rest of the class but she couldn't look away._

 _Because it wasn't just flames she saw . . . it was destruction and pain and power and the air itself seemed to surge with it, sizzle with it. And it was what she spotted in the flame's core that had her insides scorched with cold horror. Her insides froze, she was unable to think, to feel, to breath as she stared in to the flames._

' _Boggart.'_

 _It was a miracle that Marlene's whisper managed to reach her at all. When it did another surge of panic rippled through her._

 _Gripping her Acacia and Phoenix feather wand so tightly she could feel her fingernails digging into her skin, Lyra raised her arm it. She willed her horror to recede as she said, 'Riddikulus.'_

 _With a loud bang, the flames turned into fireworks; pain became delight, darkness became bursts of colour and confetti. With each burst of colour, the boggart seemed to grow smaller and smaller. It burst back with every small explosion until it had retreated enough and was small enough to slip back into the desk draw it had rolled out of._

 _For the rest of the lesson Lyra could feel at least three sets of eyes on her. Marlene just nodded to her, her complexion a bit paler than usual, and motioned that they move onto the next leg of the course. Antone made no comment about the boggart when he was giving them his evaluation (they'd been given an 'adequate' mark from him – the best Lyra could hope for in a practical lesson) but Lyra got the impression that he wanted to. And much to her surprise, Sirius didn't say anything about it either . . . and he wouldn't, not for a long time anyway._

Sirius was used to Antone's scare tactics by now – although he didn't find them nearly as intimidating as the young Professor probably would have liked, Sirius paid attention well enough. Defence Against the Dark Arts had always been a favourite subject of his and what with everything going on outside Hogwarts, it would probably come to be his most invaluable lessons as well.

After he was sure that there was not a sound to be heard in the room, Antone began in a low, measured tone.

'In a few short months you will all leave the comfort of school and will have to face reality. It is this transition that often poses the greatest risk to those who have become accustomed to the safety and convenience and … predictability of most education structures.' He paused and looked about the room. Sirius did too, finding that the majority of the class were sitting straight-backed and wide-eyed in their chairs.

He smirked at their reactions. Ever since the first speech Antone delivered to them, he'd come to enjoy the reactions they'd brought from the rest of the class. His amusement didn't completely get rid of the uneasy feeling he always seemed to get whenever the Professor started to talk.

There was something about him, he was too young . . . too calm, and not a soothing sort of calm, but an unnerving one. And Sirius always had the strange feeling that Antone looked a bit too long at him sometimes. At first Sirius merely dismissed it, he was overthinking it, but it had been months and the feeling hadn't eased.

Antone made one more sweeping look around the room before continuing.

'As we have already established throughout the term, I am here to expose your minds to the existence and dangers of the Dark Arts that are present within the wider community. Now while this fact seems to be becoming more commonplace, considering the current climate, it is imperative that its significance doesn't slip. The Dark Arts is forever changing, forever evolving and it is constantly trying to improve itself – expanding its applications. A blade is only as sharp as the scabbard it is kept in allows it to be. The same is true for a wizard and his wand. A wand will only ever be as powerful as the hand that holds it. That is why I am here, to make sure your blade is as sharp as it can be.'

Sirius wasn't smirking anymore.

It was as if the class had stopped breathing . . . but Sirius had stopped listening. He was too busy reliving his wrist being held in a painful grip, of a strong, disgusting smell pushing its way up his nose and of a grating voice . . . a voice he had blissfully forgotten about until now.

' _I get the scabbard but not the blade, how disappointing.'_

He narrowed his eyes at the young Professor, a tight feeling settling deep in his stomach.

XXXXXX

 _I get the scabbard but not the blade._

Even hours later in the last class of the day, Sirius could still hear the words repeat over and over in his head in a shrill, grating voice.

It was just a coincidence, that was all. After all what possible connection could there be between an old, dirty hag and a young Hogwarts Professor? There wasn't any connection. Just the thought that there could be was ludicrous . . . But that didn't stop the feeling Sirius got whenever he saw Antone . . . there was something off about that man.

But that didn't mean he was a hag in disguise . . . it was just an odd coincidence . . . yes, that was it, nothing more . . . that was it.

Before he could become any more engrossed in pointless thoughts, James nudged his shoulder.

'Do you think Dumbledore'll want to talk to you?' He said out the corner of his mouth as McGonagall made her way around the room, checking on people's progress. They'd been tasked with transfiguring a stick insect into a working clock. Sirius and James had long since achieved this, James' stick figure was now a grandmother clock that took up most of their desk. He and Sirius had been lazily adding to it little by little, it now had ornate carvings in the woodwork and a miniature unicorn would gallop around the time piece when the hands struck the hour.

Sirius glared after the professor as she leant over Lily and Mary's desk, giving them a slight nod of approval as she inspected their work. 'I'm not ruling it out,' Sirius ground out. It was bad enough that McGonagall had forced Lyra into meeting with Dumbledore – Sirius had cornered her after lunch and demanded to know what had happened after he and Regulus had left. If only there was a way to get to Dumbledore first, to convince him that a meeting with Lyra wasn't necessary.

Personally, he didn't have a problem with Dumbledore, in fact, he rather admired him, but for some reason, Lyra didn't share his opinion of the man.

James, no doubt sensing Sirius' worry, tried to lighten the mood. 'Maybe he just wants to talk about, y'know,' he lowered his voice, 'the Order of the Phoenix.'

The thought entered his head like metal cogs grinding to a halt. He hadn't even thought about that possibility. The Marauders had been talking about it ever since Dumbledore had mentioned it two months ago when they'd all been summoned to his office after being caught trying to eavesdrop on Lestrange and his little gang. They hadn't meant to follow them, but it was too tempting after they caught sight of them as they were making their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room from the kitchens.

The Marauders had all decided that they would accept if Dumbledore brought it up again. Things were getting worse by the day out there, there were new reports of people disappearing daily in the Daily Prophet, and they'd long since been shocked by stories detailing attacks on muggle towns and families. Sirius wouldn't sit by whilst people his parents idolised got their way.

'Do you think he knows that you told Lyra?'

Sirius blinked and the room came into focus again. He pinched his eyes for a moment before pointing his wand at his own clock, expanding the carvings in the wood. 'Probably, the man's not stupid.' _If he's smart though, he won't bring it up with her._ Sirius couldn't picture Lyra being particularly eager to volunteer, she had a tendency to just sit and watch things play out, she told him it was more entertaining that way.

'When's your detention?' James said, watching McGonagall get closer and closer.

'Wednesday night, cleaning the stained-glass windows in the north tower.' He'd been handed a slip of parchment that told him as much at the end of lunch. 'Wouldn't be all that bad except the portraits like to pester me, saying that I missed a spot.'

'Oh well, just bring your mirror and tell me when you're alone. I'll save you, mate.' James puffed out his chest proudly.

'Whatever would I do without you?' Sirius fawned over him. 'However would I survive without my knight in shining armour?' He threw his arms around James and squeezed him tightly.

'You'll never have to find out! I promise!' James cried.

They were hugging each other and fake wailing with mock pride and gratitude when a terse cough had them breaking apart. McGonagall was looking down at them, a single eyebrow raised and a scolding surely ready on the tip of her tongue.

As they broke apart, Sirius caught the eye of Clementine Salt, a Ravenclaw who had been watching Sirius and James' little display with undisguised amusement. Sirius winked at her as he looked up at McGonagall, happy with the blush that rose on her cheeks.

XXXX

The Marauders had reached the staircase that lead into the Entrance Hall where students were piling in from all directions, all of them heading to the Great Hall for dinner. From his place on the stairs Sirius spotted Lyra and Dorcas making their way in from the grounds – they must have just finished Care of Magical Creatures.

Looking after animals had always had a calming effect on Lyra, Sirius suspected it was because she could get caught up in the animal meanwhile forgetting everything that might be bothering her.

Sirius gave her an irritated look that went unnoticed. Yes, Lyra Black, that's what you do best isn't it? Ignore your problems in the hope that they'll figure themselves out.

Well Sirius was through ignoring things, he was finished with it.

But that isn't what James had nudged him for. He nodded his head in the opposite direction and Sirius followed his line of sight.

It was as if Hogwarts had heard his thoughts. A group of Slytherin's appeared trudging up the stairs from the dungeons. It seemed that Hogwarts was scoffing at Sirius saying _don't ignore things, aye? Prove it._

The Entrance Hall crowd was thinning quickly and by the time the Marauders were halfway across the Hall they were almost level to the Slytherins. The two groups would have to bottleneck in order to enter the Great Hall.

Just before they got into view of all those already eating in the hall beyond, Sirius moved so quickly that there were echoes of alert from the two groups. But it didn't matter, Sirius already had his brother up against the nearest wall. One arm pushing the youngers chest, pinning him to the wall, the other hand holding a wand to Regulus' chin, its tip glowing an angry red.

'I'll say this just once more, in case you missed it this morning whilst you were shitting your pants.' Sirius couldn't see what the others were doing, he didn't care, the world was dark around them, all that mattered was the tip of Sirius' wand and the slightly wide eyes of Regulus. 'Stay away from Lyra or I swear to everything in this world, you will regret it.'

The dark turned burning red as Regulus smirked.

'Well that's up to her, isn't it?'

A rage of fury rushed through Sirius' ears so that he couldn't hear the pleading calls of Remus or the snide threats being thrown around by the others.

'This is going to be my only warning – you do anything to hurt her, to bring any sort of harm to her whatsoever, I will gladly show you all the love Mother and Father have shown us, in all it's forms.'

In the flash of a moment, Regulus' smirk crinkled into something like a grimace. Sirius recognised this look, having seen it the night Sirius left with Lyra, when Lyra was covered in blood and dying on Sirius' bed.

Sirius shoved himself away from Regulus and made his way to the Great Hall, not caring to dig himself through that red that had consumed the world.

'It's over!' He called over his shoulder before he passed into the Great Hall. He looked over to the Gryffindor table and stopped dead in his tracks.

Lyra was looking right at him and he had never seen her so angry.


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, so I'm at an airport waiting for a plane and thought I'd put this one out there whilst I've got some time.**

 **This was by far the most popular chapter on Lyra and I'm curious to see if it'll be the same for this new version. Haven't changed much expect for the ending – don't fix what ain't broken, yeah?**

* * *

 _Lily's shoulders squared and she crossed the room with slow, menacing steps until she was less than a meter from him. 'I am sick and tired of that girl being let down by the men in her life,' she growled. Even though she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye, it was Remus who felt two feet tall._

 _She stared at him a moment longer before spinning on her heel and closing the door behind her._

 _Remus stood in the middle of the room well after she'd left, staring at the place she'd been standing, hearing her unspoken words ringing painfully in his head._

 _I expected better from you, Remus. Fix this, or you'll lose her._

* * *

'How long are you going to keep this going?'

Remus and Lyra were lounging on a blanket that had been thrown down over the snow under a tree out near the frozen lake. The air surrounding them was a lot calmer and warmer than the air Remus had walked through to get here . . . He doubted it was a natural phenomenon.

They'd found each other here a while ago. Well Lyra was already here and Remus hadn't so much found her rather than sought her out, which hadn't really taken that much effort since he'd had the map and all.

Remus had woken to strong, howling wind pressing itself against the dormitory window. The room was quite warm and quite empty. James and Sirius were no doubt already down at the Quidditch Pitch for practice.

Harold Davies, a sixth-year Gryffindor who had become the new Quidditch captain at the start of the year had stepped into the role with rather a large amount of enthusiasm. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were neck-and-neck on the ladder for second place with Slytherin just holding onto the lead – something that was not acceptable. This lead to Davies – after some rather ardent encouragement from James – to schedule regular training sessions . . . no matter the weather apparently.

Peter's bed had been empty as well. He probably tagged along with the other two who, Remus vaguely remembered, had promised to help the boy with his flying skills.

By the time Remus had dragged himself out of bed, went down to breakfast – helping himself to an extra helping of sausages seeing as the Great Hall was practically deserted – and made sure his homework was up to date, it was barely even ten o'clock.

But then he remembered that he still had the Marauders Map in his bag. The boys had all agreed that, out of the four of them, the map would be safest with Remus over the holidays. He dug it out and began searching for the only name he wanted to see.

Now he lay on his side, propped up by his elbow, watching Lyra lay on the blanket, reading quietly. Remus' own book lay forgotten beside him, instead he'd taken to watching the grounds, the students who'd started some pretty impressive snow ball fights with solidly constructed forts and all. Off in the distance he could just make out the tops of the Quidditch posts through the thin mist. Every so often a figure on a broomstick would fly around one of the posts before quickly dipping and disappearing again.

It was this sight that had lead Remus to thinking about Sirius and the twin's on-going silent treatment in the first place. The twins hadn't spoken in a whole week. It may very well have been the longest they'd gone without talking. The only other time that even came close to this streak was back in fifth year when . . . No, he wouldn't think about that now, he'd made himself a promise.

He was sure Sirius was going to approach Lyra after dinner that night he'd confronted Regulus, but Sirius had just averted his gaze and given his sister a wide birth. And Remus didn't blame Sirius for being a little scared of her. She had been so enraged that the ring of pure silver which circled her irises had seemed to glow . . . no they seemed to burn, white hot flames in a raging storm.

Lyra flipped another page of her book.

'Clearly, he doesn't want to hear anything that I have to say, so why should I talk to him at all?'

'Of course, he wants to hear what you have to say.'

'Perhaps, but he never listens to me anyway so I really don't see the point in it. I asked him not to start fights and a day later he's attacking people, and not just anyone, but Regulus! Regulus!' She'd dropped her book and was now staring up at the tree's snow covered branches.

Remus rolled over so he was being propped up by his forearms. Lyra had a hand resting on her stomach and Remus felt the familiar feeling of panic flare, as it so often did whenever Lyra's stomach was involved. He knew that there was nothing to worry about, she'd healed, she was fine and that's simply where her arm had fallen, but still the panic remained.

Remus blinked. 'But that's not all that's going on between the two of you, is it?'

She turned to him, frowning a little. Remus inhaled.

'I _may_ have overheard the two of you a few weeks ago at the Potters.'

Her frown deepened.

'You were talking about some dinner or something,' his voice trailed off, he didn't know how much he should admit to. He _really_ wanted to ask more questions, but then she'd know just how much he'd heard and she was still sore from whatever it was that was going on between her and Sirius.

But Lyra simply sighed in annoyance, turning from him and closing her eyes.

'Sirius is just being paranoid, as per usual.'

Neither of them said anything for a moment or two. They just let the sounds of the students laughing, the gentle thud Giant Squid's tentacles pressing up against the ice of the lake off in the distance, wash over them.

'I'm sorry,' came Lyra's voice. 'I know you hate it when we fight.'

Remus snorted and moved closer to her side. 'The whole castle hates it when the two of you fight.'

A smile bloomed on to her face when she opened her eyes to find him leaning over her.

'Well it's a good thing that not _everyone_ seems too upset then.'

Remus pretended to be affronted as he slowly lowered his face to meet hers. 'If you're talking about me then I'll have you know that I . . . am . . . very . . . very . . . upset.' He pressed short kisses to her lips, cheeks, forehead between the words.

'If you say so,' Lyra giggled at his attention, which had grown now that he'd stopped speaking.

Remus grinned and gently bit a spot on her neck he knew would get a response from. He wasn't disappointed as Lyra gave a small squeal of delight, hitting his chest.

'Remus, what do you think you're doing? Not here!'

'Why not?' He mumbled into her skin, revelling in the warmth she was giving off.

'Because . . .' Remus couldn't help but let out a huff of satisfaction when he heard how breathless she'd become. 'Because there are kids around! What if someone sees?'

He pulled himself away from her so that he could look straight into her eyes. Those silver pools positively swimming, the rings sparkling up at him.

'Well that's their fault for being rude little voyeurs now, isn't it?'

She playfully glared up at him, her lips twisting slightly – a tell-tale sign that she was trying to hold in a smile – before he captured them with his own.

What he wouldn't give to be frozen in this moment forever. From the snowflakes falling gently, to the soft breeze swirling around them, to Lyra underneath him, her hands in his hair. It was perfection, totally, completely.

Or it would have been if a twig hadn't snapped from somewhere in the forest behind them that had both of them pulling back and looking into the shadowy undergrowth.

Lyra was the first to look away, she patted Remus' chest. 'It's probably just an animal.'

Remus nodded but didn't look away. Now that he focussed, he swore he could hear something, almost like . . .

'Remus!'

He looked down at her.

She patted his chest again, pushing a little this time.

'Come on, I better get going, I'm sure I was supposed to meet the girls for lunch.'

He rolled over and watched Lyra get up. She bent down and gave him a chaste kiss. 'I'll see you later.'

He watched her until she was out of sight before he turned back to the forest, trying to find that sound again. But it was gone.

XXXXXX

That was close. He shouldn't have been that near to the edge of the forest in the first place but it was as if he felt something pulling him towards her. Or rather something about _her_ that was calling out to _him_. He could feel the magical energy rolling off her in intense waves and she wasn't even trying!

He was almost giddy thinking about what she would be able to do if she were to harness that power.

His elation had turned into molten fury when the boy leaned in to her. And he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from screaming when the distance between them disappeared completely. He didn't even realise that he'd taken a step towards them until the twig under his foot snapped. Quickly stepping back, he'd tried to calm his breathing, very aware that both teenagers were now peering into the forest.

She was the first to dismiss it but the boy wasn't so quick.

There was something about the boy, it was as if he could actually _hear_ him, he could practically see the boy's ears prick up. As quietly as he could, he took another step back into the forest, and then another, and another, until he was far enough away that he simply turned and walked away freely.

The worry of being discovered dissipated but the fury, the fury remained, it was a volcanic river rampaging through his veins. And he knew the one thing that would calm it.

XXXXXX

Lyra had never noticed how long a week could last.

Amongst the ever-growing mountain of work from her classes, her apprehension about her upcoming detention with Dumbledore and dealing with Lily Evans's sudden new interest in becoming Lyra's friend, Lyra assumed she wouldn't have to go out of her way to ignore Sirius.

But she'd been so very wrong. She supposed it would have been a lot harder if Sirius' hadn't been avoiding her as well.

Maybe Remus was right. _Of course Remus is right._ Maybe Sirius would listen to her now. . . maybe enough steam had stopped coming out of his ears enough to let something seep in for a change. Especially since she'd now had enough time to figure out what she was going to say, well she would when she eventually found him.

Which in itself was proving a challenge. She'd searched the Common Room, had asked Remus to check the Boys dormitory, she'd gone down to the Great Hall and even checked the library, which she realised as soon as she stepped into the dusty place was going to be a waste of time – she didn't think she'd ever seen Sirius in the library. Finally she found him in the kitchens.

He had his back to her, sitting at one of the long tables. An ink pot and a piece of parchment sat next to him and he looked to be reading (an oddity that made her pause) from a large book. A rather large bowl of chocolate ice cream sat to the side, seemingly forgotten about.

She was half way to him when a small house elf with a long, narrow nose, hurried up to meet her.

'Good evening Miss Lyra,' the elf squeaked. 'May Telly get Miss something to eat, or something to drink?'

Lyra glanced over at Sirius, who hadn't looked away from the book. She leaned in to the elf and lowered her voice. 'Just a spoon, thanks Telly.'

The elf nodded vigorously and scampered off. By the time Lyra had reached the table and sat down across from Sirius, Telly had reappeared, handing her a single silver spoon. Lyra thanked her and Telly hurried off to help finish preparing the next day's breakfast.

For a while they sat in silence, Lyra eating from Sirius' bowl, Sirius reading, the hustle and bustle of the house elves working filling the room.

She had planned to act nonchalantly, as if they had never stopped talking in the first place, but then she noticed the book.

Her face fell.

'What's going on?'

'We haven't talked in days and those are the first words you choose to say to me?' He said, not looking at her.

'Cut it out.' And as quickly as she could, she leant forwards, grabbing for the book but Sirius was quicker. Leaning back into her chair, Lyra crossed her arms over her chest, quirking an eyebrow.

With a twitch of the fingers the thick tome slid across the table, coming to rest open in front of her. She glanced down at it to see pages covered in complicated diagrams filled in with countless dates and complicated names. Flipping it over to the cover, she read the peeling gold letters aloud.

' _A Comprehensive Guide to Britain's most Ancient Wizarding Houses._ ' Nerves squirmed inside her as she lifted her gaze to look at Sirius. He didn't return her look, instead picking up his own discarded spoon and going in for more ice-cream. 'You know, I'm actually afraid to ask.'

He scoffed as he leaned back, a joking smile meeting her. 'And you call _me_ dramatic.'

'Yes, I do,' she said, pointing to the book. 'But this is being said from the voice of experience.' All she got in response was an eye-roll.

Returning to the book, she flipped through its worn pages. The majority were laden with large, intricate family trees. Some were dedicated purely for explaining the history of a certain family, others had been set aside in order to explain just how everyone within a particular family was connected to one another.

'Didn't you have your fill of this when we were younger?' She mumbled, briefly skimming over a page entitled _The Most Ancient and Their Significance: The Sacred Twenty-Eight_.

'What, can't I have a renewed interest in something?'

Lyra merely looked at him blankly. Then she saw the parchment and the quill resting in the ink pot next to it.

Following her eyes, Sirius made a grab for the parchment, but Lyra was prepared this time and got their first.

'Lyra, wait. Lyra don't!'

Ignoring his pleas, Lyra unfolded it and started to read.

She recognised the handwriting immediately, as well as the name written next to _'Dear'_ at the top.

'Uncle Alphard?'

Sirius' mouth was working like a fish out of water, opening and closing silently.

'Why are you writing to Uncle Alphard? We haven't spoken to him in . . . well . . . have we ever spoken to him?'

Realising that Sirius wasn't going to be offering any sort of explanation, she returned to the letter. As she read she felt the muscles in her face slacken and the tight feeling in her stomach – the feeling that had been ever present for so very long now – swelled suddenly, like a heavy rock dropped into still water.

'I can explain.' Sirius had found his voice.

'I don't think you can, actually.' She tried to keep her voice as calm as possible. 'But give it your best shot.'

Sirius hesitated for a fraction of a second, not missing the underlying threat that lurked under her words. 'Look I know you think I'm being paranoid and that I'm making too much out of this.'

Lyra had to resist the urge to nod in whole-hearted agreement and simply settled for pursing her lips as Sirius went on.

'But I'm not like you, Lyra! I can't just forget about what happened, and I know,' he said quickly, catching the look on her face, 'I know you wish that I could. But I _know_ I'm right about this on some level.'

There was something he wasn't telling her. She knew there was. She could always tell when there was something bothering him, except usually she knew what it was. This time though she knew he was only telling her half of whatever it was that stirred his worry.

She could only watch as he leaned further across the table, lowering his voice. 'Something had Mother scared that night. She was far too quiet. If it were different than she would've joined in, would've been egging me on as well.'

Lyra could feel her resolve crack, little fissures running through old weathered stone. She unfolded her arms that had suddenly grown strangely heavy and placed them in her lap. It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed how quiet their Mother had been that night. Usually – even if she did choose to keep on the quiet side – she would've at least made the effort to sneer at her eldest children, especially if it was being done in agreement when someone else was pointing out all their various faults. But, as reluctant as she was to admit it, Lyra couldn't deny the fact that their Mother's attitude that night had unnerved her more than a little. She _had been_ too quiet, too pale, her eyes too wide, her answers too metallic.

'That doesn't prove anything,' Lyra tried to say in a strong, sure voice, but Sirius wasn't having any of it.

'It doesn't disprove anything either. Madam Rosier was onto something and Mother knew it.'

'That still doesn't explain why you're sending letters to Alphard. Sirius, he's ancient! Everyone knows that he's practically on his death bed. I doubt he remembers what he had for breakfast this morning let alone anything about this.'

'Well it's not like I can waltz into Rosier Estate and simply ask Madam Rosier exactly what she was talking about that night. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to invite me inside so we can discuss the matter over a nice cup of tea.'

'And you think _Alphard_ might know something we don't?'

'What _do_ we know, Lyra? I mean, apart from the obvious,' he said, waving a dismissive hand in her direction. He didn't acknowledge her raised eyebrow as he took another spoonful of ice-cream. 'It's worth a try. We weren't around back then, he was, he could know something.'

'You really believe these rumours, don't you?' She wasn't too sure she wanted to know the answer but the question was out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it.

Sirius looked at her with a hard expression for a moment. She wondered if he was trying to decide how honest he should be. 'I don't know.' His voice was just as hard as his brow-line. 'But the more I think about it, the more plausible it becomes.'

Lyra pinched the bridge of her nose, cursing the ability her twin had in stirring up her sense of curiosity, a sense she usually tried to quell. Curiosity only landed a person in trouble, or in Sirius' case in twice as much trouble along with a fair amount of danger.

But listening to him now had everything she'd ever heard about the rumours surrounding their Mother's first pregnancy come boiling back.

She sighed. 'Fine, but I don't want to hear any more about it.' Merlin knew she had plenty of other things to worry about.

Sirius snorted. 'Won't stop you from worrying about it though, will it?'

'Isn't that what the eldest is supposed to do?'

She gave him a small smile when he looked across at her.

'Fine. Deal,' Sirius said, getting up from the table. He flicked his wand and the books disappeared, no doubt back to their shelf in the Library where he'd stolen them from in the first place.

Lyra, who was still holding the letter, folded it up and handed it back to him. 'Just, don't be disappointed if he can't tell you anything.'

'You almost sound hopeful that he won't.'

Lyra didn't say anything as she put her spoon gently on the table and stood up. Sirius didn't call out to her . . . he didn't say anything as she left the kitchens.

When she was younger she remembered visiting one of her Mothers friend – an aunt or some such – and while the woman was a little strange, she'd told Lyra once that she was unique, special, capable of so much more than anyone would ever allow. Such words said to such a young girl would of course be received with some fair amount of wonder and excitement. Looking back as an adult, however, the words haunted her.

Try as she might to dismiss these memories . . . she was so young, she may have misheard, her mind might have somehow changed what was really said . . . maybe the woman was insane, not really knowing what she was saying or who she was saying it to . . . still, Lyra could hear her voice sometimes.

But that was a lifetime ago. And even if Sirius was okay with allowing himself to be sucked into it she wouldn't.

Lyra reached the end of the corridor and found herself facing a long staircase. The thought of all those steps had her unconsciously touching her stomach gingerly.

No . . . she wouldn't spend any more time thinking about old uncles and aunts, rumours and the like . . . she had far important things to worry about.

And they still hadn't mentioned Regulus.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Do you think she should confront Sirius about Regulus or should she just leave things be?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Bit of a long one this one . . . But also kinda an important one . . . Only about five or so more chapters until this massive rework is complete and then it's onto the new stuff (which I haven't started writing yet . . . Probably should get on that, maybe?) Feel free to leave thoughts, opinions, speculations and/or criticisms.**

* * *

' _Dumbledore –'_

' _Oh please!' Lyra scoffed, a sharp burst of derisive laughter pushed from her. 'Everyone acts as if he's the benevolent father figure in all this. He isn't! He doesn't care for you, Remus. Not like I do.' She took a few steps towards him, then stopped. Her eyes, which had started to soften for the briefest possible second, glinted sharply again. 'I would have been out there, looking for you, had_ he _not placed James on babysitting duty!'_

* * *

It took a while for Lyra to figure out what was making her so anxious Monday morning. In fact, it wasn't until she sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast that realisation came in the form of a small bit of parchment, handed to her by a tight-lipped Professor McGonagall, who merely nodded curtly before walking on.

Lyra watched her approach Sirius who was sitting a little way down the table. It looked like he was being handed an invitation to a highly prestigious party. He smiled graciously up at McGonagall. Lyra even heard him joke that he would be honoured to attend and that he would be awaiting its arrival with baited breath. As soon as McGonagall's back was to him, however, Sirius threw the parchment onto the table and scowled after her.

Looking back down at her own slip of parchment, Lyra found the time and place, along with instructions on how to get to Dumbledore's office, printed in neat script. Below the details was a single word, scrawled almost as if it was an after-thought. _Droobles_. She guessed that this was the password to his office … Dumbledore's office.

Her stomach plummeted.

For six and a half years she had successfully avoided one-on-one interactions with her Headmaster. Normally this feat wouldn't be all that special what with Hogwarts being a fairly large school and the fact that Dumbledore didn't actually teach a class, but with having Sirius as a brother, she had to count herself lucky that she'd never been caught up in his drama enough to warrant a meeting. And now it was all useless. All her caution, shot to hell.

'What's that?'

Lyra looked up to Marlene who had just taken a seat across from her. The blonde reached for a slice of toast buttering it, all the while trying to get at the proper angle to see what was written on the slip still in Lyra's hands.

'Detention,' was all Lyra said, going back to her own breakfast, being careful to avoid Marlene's eyes.

Thankfully, Marlene didn't say anything more about it, not that the topic she brought up next was much better.

'So, apparently, someone was spotted down by the lake on Saturday canoodling with one Remus Lupin.'

Lyra choked on her pumpkin juice, she hurriedly tried to mask it by feigning a sneezing fit. One look at Marlene's face told her that the rouse hadn't worked.

'I never picked you as the type to be interested in gossip,' Lyra said in what she hoped was an off-hand kind of voice.

'Normally you'd be right, but it's always good to know what's going on around here.' Her eyes narrowed. 'Especially when it involves someone I know.'

'Well I'm sure Remus will be touched to know you're thinking of him.'

Marlene looked caught somewhere between wanting to narrow her eyes even further and smirking, the resultant expression had Lyra grinning into her goblet.

Marlene had, for months, suspected that there was something going on between Lyra and Remus. And, if she were to be honest with herself, Lya didn't think she'd mind all that much if Marlene were to find out about them, but she was enjoying the peace and quiet of their relationship too much to let it slip. What she had with Remus was easy and that's what she wanted . . . what she needed right now.

'Alright, answer me this then,' Marlene said with renewed determination, 'why is half of Slytherin table glaring right at you?'

As discreetly as she could, Lyra turned to look over her right shoulder, scanning the far table before quickly looking away again. 'I don't think a single student is the same as half the table,' she deadpanned to Marlene.

Marlene waved her off. 'Might as well be. That's a pretty intense look, Lyra.'

'Sirius has probably done something to piss him off.'

'So he's glaring at _you_?'

'Maybe he's getting confused. With the rate Sirius' hair is growing, I wouldn't be completely surprised at him getting us mixed up.'

Marlene snorted, not convinced. She raised a hand and wiggled her fingers in Lestrange's direction, a small and – to Lyra's horror – somewhat flirtatious smile toying around her mouth.

'Stop that!' Lyra reached across and grabbed her hand, pulling it down to the table, ignoring Marlene's smirk. Desperately trying to steer the conversation to one a little safer, Lyra asked, 'What classes have you got today?'

With an eye-roll Marlene scrambled through her bag for a moment before extracting her timetable. Giving it a quick scan she said, 'Arithmancy first, Charms after that, so we'll be back together before you know it!'

'Joy,' Lyra muttered, which earnt her a shove. 'Where's Dorcas?'

'How should I know?'

Lyra's eyebrows raised. 'What's going on between the two of you lately?'

Marlene snorted in a rather unladylike, rather Marlene kind of way. 'I have no bloody idea! The girl's got her wand in knot for what's probably a stupid reason and has decided to take it out on me.'

Lyra wasn't entirely convinced, especially when Marlene's eyes not so subtly slid to somewhere down the Gryffindor table. Her gaze only held there for a second, but it was long enough to raise Lyra's suspicions, even more so when she remembered who it was who sat down there.

She would have spent longer contemplating just what was going on with her friends if it weren't for the burning feeling currently heating her neck. She could feel him staring at her. Considering what had happened over Christmas, she knew that he might try something, but that fact didn't stop her being so surprised when he'd approached her just last week . . .

 _Lily and Lyra stood outside the Potions room, trying to ignore the snide comments from Maxus Mulciber and Rabastan Lestrange. Both girls had become rather adept at disregarding whatever they may overhear from the Slytherin's, and after what had happened as a result of Lyra's most recent outburst, she wasn't about to make the mistake of losing control again._

 _The situation was made slightly worse by Snape's presence. He was hovering next to Lestrange and Mulciber, seemingly absorbed in his potions text book but every so often, when the others would make direct reference to them, Snape's attention would flicker over to Lily. Lily kept her eyes firmly on the potions door, though it was clear from how rigidly she stood that she wasn't deaf to the jibes being sent her way or blind to all three boy's attentions._

 _Thankfully, the classroom door opened before either girl could bend to temptation and hex the Slytherin's. Professor Slughorn gave a boisterous cry of surprise, as if he'd forgotten that he had a class at all. Whether he noticed the obvious tension or not, he quickly ushered them inside. Upon spotting Lily, Slughorn personally showed her through the door, quickly striking up a conversation about what she'd thought of the homework he'd assigned them and if she'd be attending the upcoming Slug Club dinner._

 _The relief that had been sweeping through Lyra at the distraction of Slughorn came to a sudden stop when a hand grabbed her arm on her way to the room._

' _You know you're better than this, right?'_

 _Lestrange had leaned in so close to her that his face was unfocussed when she tried to look at him. She tried to lean away but his grip on her was too tight._

' _You don't have to live on the back of his mistakes.'_

 _Lyra gritted her teeth when he moved in closer._

' _There are people here who care about you, Lyra. I remember when there was a time you'd believe me when I said that. But it's true. It's as true now as it was then. Please remember that the next time you're dragged into one of Sirius' messes.' He let go and entered the classroom, leaving Lyra to lose another short breath of relief out in the corridor._

Lyra had spent the rest of the lesson pretending that she and Slughorn were the only two people who existed. This was difficult given the fact that Lily seemed almost desperate to make conversation. Thankfully the topics she brought up – the Slug Club dinner and how she probably should ask James to go with her, which would have been fine except he'd somehow find a way to sneak Sirius in as well, which could only end in disaster, and the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw which would could determine the final match if Ravenclaw lost by a margin of 150 points and how she can't believe she knows this much about Quidditch now, but seeing as how obsessed James is with it, that she shouldn't be that surprised – were all topics that Lyra could nod along to and feign interest in.

To her surprise, Slughorn invited Lyra to the dinner as well.

'It would be lovely if you could make it, m'dear!' He positively beamed at her whilst checking on her half-finished potion. 'If you're still interested in magizoology then I'm sure it will prove to be most engaging, what with the guests I've invited along!'

Lyra could only blink and nod – she wasn't even sure if she managed to force out a smile – but it seemed to be enough for the Professor who just chuckled in delight before moving on.

So, now she had _that_ to look forward to as well as everything else. Just the thought of it almost had her groaning into her pumpkin juice.

Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to think about it as one thing at a time . . . first up; detention with Dumbledore

XXXXXX

She stood outside the entrance to Dumbledore's office, staring at the statue that concealed the spiral staircase, Sirius' words kept echoing in her mind.

'I'm just saying that it wouldn't hurt to talk to him about it,' he'd said whilst the two sat in a corner of the Common Room. 'He'll know what to do.'

He just didn't understand. She _knew_ what to do too, she hadn't come this far by being clueless. And she realised he was just concerned, but ever since that incident at the start of the holidays his concern had been taken to a whole new level, and it was becoming exhausting.

'Well? Are you going to tell me the password or are you just going to keep me waiting all night?'

Lyra blinked and realised that it was the statue that had spoken. Apologising, she told it the password and stepped forward.

The door to Dumbledore's office was already wedged open when Lyra stepped onto the landing at the top of the stairs. She took this as a kind of invitation. He obviously knew she'd be stopping by and yet he was no when in sight as she peered into the office beyond. Trying to steal her confidence, she strode through the door.

Never having been summoned to his office before, she wasn't quite sure what she'd been expecting. Of course, Sirius and the others had filled her in on some of the details, but she now realised that there was a great deal they'd forgotten to mention.

Like all the various silver and bronze instruments placed amongst the books and on small tables throughout the circular room. They whirled, popped and spun around like spinning tops. There was a constant soft hum of noise and activity blanketing the space. Lyra could feel soft ripples of magic emanating from them, she shuffled around the feeling, skirting the area, pretending she couldn't feel a thing.

Glancing at the various bookshelves lining the walls. Her feet paused when she saw what was sitting amongst the volumes. Looking as worn and as tattered as ever, the Sorting Hat sat unanimated, harmless, meaningless. But even without a trace of life, Lyra still couldn't shake the feeling that it was looking right at her, watching her, judging her, silently reminding her of things she already knew.

Stifling the frustrated anger that had started to rise in her like flames from a fire, she continued further into the room.

She was only a metre or two away from the Headmaster's desk when she stopped dead.

She was keenly aware of exactly two things. Only one of those things came as a shock, however, the other she'd been dreading ever since entering the office . . . no, it had been even longer than that . . . she'd been dreading it ever since McGonagall told her that _this_ is where she'd serve detention – _here,_ where _he_ could watch on from above.

She scoured the surrounding walls where a sea of portraits hung. The majority of the past headmasters and mistresses of Hogwarts were snoozing in their frames, or were pretending to do so at least. A few were awake and staring at her undisguised and unblinking. She paid them no mind as she searched for the frame she knew would be up there.

Apprehension grew as she looked from portrait to portrait. She hadn't laid eyes on him in years. She couldn't remember exactly what was said during their last conversation but from the sour taste in her mouth at the thought of him she couldn't imagine that it had been particularly pleasant.

What would he say to her being here? Would he report back to _them_? Would they see fit to send her another letter? This time they could very well spit on her name and they might not be as kind to forgo the use of a howler. Dread grew like rising rapids as she glanced from one old wizard to the next.

'Ah, Miss Black!'

Lyra gave a start, looking away from the wall at once. The sight of Albus Dumbledore standing behind his desk was enough to cause the rapids to recede but a sick feeling lingered like sea foam, clinging to her stomach and lungs.

The headmaster was positively beaming, blue eyes sparkling from behind his half-moon spectacles as he regarded her. She'd never had the urge to shuffle on her feet more in her life. Thankfully, he motioned for her to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her before the urge became too overwhelming.

He stood for a moment after she'd sat down, looking at her and although his expression remained harmless, she couldn't help feeling increasingly uneasy. She could feel the hidden intent behind those blue orbs, and decided it would be safer for the both of them if she didn't hold his gaze for long. Instead, she looked straight ahead and came face to face with the thing that had delivered her such a shock moments before.

She'd read about Phoenix's of course, but seeing one in real life made the books she'd read seem more like children's stories – crude, basic and truly undeserving of the real thing.

It's red and gold plumage seemed to hold a gleam to it that had nothing to do with the fire its perch was set against. It was so tall that she imagined it's wing-span to fill the entire office wall-to-wall. But what really proved the most mesmerising thing was it's small, black, eyes that reflected the light like precious stones.

It didn't just seem to be watching her either . . . it seemed to be studying her, studying her with such intensity the Headmaster could never hope to achieve. In return she looked it over as well, but then again, she'd never seen a Phoenix before, the bird must have seen quiet enough humans for them to hold any sort of interest for it. It's eyes followed every move hers did and she couldn't seem to look away.

'I've just made some tea, would you like a cup?'

With a great deal of effort she tore her eyes away from the bird long enough to murmur a quick, 'Yes, thank you, sir,' but as soon as Dumbledore's back was to her, she found her attention being pulled back to the Phoenix.

It wasn't just the fact that she was looking at an incredibly rare animal that had her intrigued . . . She could almost _feel_ it's curiosity, could almost _hear_ it's mind working. It was as if they were talking to each other but it was answering her in a silent language she couldn't understand.

Suddenly, it clicked its beak and Lyra had to grip the edge of her seat as a ripple shot through her. Blinking, wide-eyed, trying to shake off the sensation, Lyra stared at the bird wide-eyed.

A hitch in her breath was the only outward show of surprise she'd allow herself to make in such public and curious company. Lyra forced her breath to be released slowly, control taking over but she couldn't seem to relax enough to let go of the armrests.

She'd never felt anything like it, not from an outward source at any rate. But that would be impossible. The bird couldn't have known that she could experience a surge like that unharmed, unless . . . unless the conversation she'd been unwittingly having with it had grown suddenly more sinister.

But as it sat on it's perch, blinking over at her, it's head slightly tilted to one side, it didn't seem at all threatening. If anything it looked even more curious than before, like it had just conducted an experiment and was still puzzling over the results.

An experiment . . . a controlled one. It knew she would be able to handle a surge of raw magic. So if it knew Lyra wouldn't be hurt by it then it must know that _–_

'Sugar?'

It took all her control not to jump. She'd almost forgotten about Dumbledore, who had been bustling about in the back corner of the room. She shook her head – trying to dislodge her thoughts as much as answer Dumbledore – and watched as he placed the tea cup on the desk in front of her.

She stared at it while Dumbledore took a seat in his high-backed chair. She couldn't seem to move. Whether it was the lingering effects of the bird's experiment or still being stuck within her own head, she wasn't sure. After taking a few sips from his own cup, he put it down in front of him and then leant back, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

'And how are you today, Miss Black?'

For such a simple question it was harder than anyone would have thought to answer. Lyra felt all the things she wanted to say rise up her throat like bile. She wanted to say that her stomach hurt, that it had been throbbing consistently for days and had now become rather painful. Every movement had the fabric of her shirt only sought to frustrate the issue and she didn't know whether she was in more pain when she stood or when she had the chance to sit down. She wanted to say that she was annoyed, not at anything in particular, but just annoyed, like a rash that just wouldn't budge. And she wanted to tell him that she was tired, so tired.

She wanted to say all of these things . . . but he was the last person she wanted to say them to. Instead, the corners of her lips twitched up in a polite half-smile of acknowledgement and she replied with, 'I'm fine, thank you, sir.'

'I trust that you are looking forward to the end of the year? I know how taxing exam revision can be.'

She nodded her head.

If Dumbledore was at all disappointed by the lack of response than he wasn't showing it.

'How are your classes coming along? I trust you're preparing for your upcoming NEWT examinations.'

Lyra refused to let her shoulder sag, particularly as she thought of the large list of essays and revision work she had yet to look at. 'I am sir.'

'Any particular favourite subjects?'

'I've always been partial to Ancient Runes, sir.'

'Yes, Professor Weatherby has always spoken very highly of you,' Dumbledore said with a smile. 'I must confess to having browsed through your academic records. Hearing that Ancient Runes is your preferred subject isn't at all surprising, you have always seemed to favour theory over practicality.'

'Well I've always had the belief that one's brains should be favoured just as much as one's brawn, sir,' she said lightly. Let him think whatever he wanted about her academic record. She didn't come here for him to goad something out of her she might regret.

Dumbledore gave a chuckle. 'I suppose you're right, but considering the current climate it wouldn't hurt to have just a little more brawn.'

 _The current climate? Please don't bring up the Order. Please remember that you talked about it with Sirius and the others. You never said anything about it to me . . . hell, you've never even talked to me before now!_

'But you have not come to me tonight to have a chat about your academic studies,' Dumbledore said softly, picking up his cup again and taking another sip.

The anxiety that had settled like thick liquid in the depths of Lyra's stomach started to vaporize, filling her innards with uncomfortable, stifling, choking smog.

'Although I was not present during last week's morning excitement, I have been given a full report by Professor McGonagall.' He put the cup back on the table. 'I understand the pressures that must be being felt by all of you.'

She supressed a snort, making sure to keep all the muscles in her face straight, impassive, unyielding. Annoyingly she felt her nostrils flare and could have sworn that she saw a spark burst in the fire behind Dumbledore, although she hoped she'd just imagined it.

She wondered just who he was talking about. If he truly was concerned about all of them – all of them being Sirius and Regulus as well as just her, if she were to hazard a guess – then why weren't they being given the pleasure of the Headmaster's company for an evening? But no, it was just her he'd wished to talk to . . . what she wouldn't give to be with Sirius right now cleaning the stained-glass windows on the northern tower, even if those windows liked to play nasty tricks on people by vanishing every so often.

'I received an inquiry from the Ministry of Magic a few weeks ago about an incident of great magical energy that was detected around the area I believe your family's house to be.'

There was no mistaking it this time. The fire momentarily flared up in the grate.

 _Control, Lyra!_

'I was able to put their minds at ease and I know that you have been through a difficult ordeal, Miss Black, but I must ask, is there anything you wish to talk to me about?'

Lyra looked at the wall where the portraits hung again, this time she spotted the one she'd been hoping to avoid almost immediately. His eyes were hard and his mouth pressed into a thin white line as he peered down at her but at least he wasn't wearing his usual sneer, not that she liked the calculating stare much better.

'Phineas has agreed not to relay anything he hears in this room tonight whilst visiting his other portrait,' Dumbledore said, following her gaze.

Lyra stayed still and silent. She watched the Phoenix, trying to ignore Dumbledore as he got out of his chair and moved out of her line of site. Curiosity eventually got the better of her and she looked behind her.

Dumbledore was standing at a small waist-high table. On the table top sat a glass chess set, the pieces small and strangely shaped, sitting immobile in their assigned places.

'Do you play chess, Miss Black?' He said after what seemed an incredibly long time. It was as if they were talking about her classes again, his voice was casual, light, even slightly charming. She frowned at the change in topic. 'Surely your parents must have taught you.'

'They did, but I've never attempted the muggle version of the game.'

Dumbledore gave an odd sort of chuckle which came out more like a huff. 'I must admit that I find it much more of a challenge.' He picked up a piece, one of the knights made of frosted glass, and examined it before putting it back on its square. 'Much more difficult when you aren't getting outside help. You're forced to really on natural ability alone.'

This time she didn't notice the growing flames.

'But,' he said turning around and making his way back to his chair. Lyra watched his every step, his every movement, 'some of us hold the upper hand even there. It can be a most interesting game if all players are open and willing to play to the best of their abilities . . . even if they know it would leave the other at a disadvantage.'

She couldn't help it this time, her eyes narrowed. She could only be thankful that his back was still her. This wasn't a meeting to discuss her schooling or her behaviour . . . this was an acceptance offer. _Natural ability_. He was talking about _her_ ability. But for him to approach the matter than he must have some sort of idea as to what her abilities were. And if he knew . . .

She swallowed and schooled her features back into a look of cool, detached mild curiosity as he turned back to face her.

Dumbledore didn't look at her as he crossed back to his desk and Sat back down, shrugging meekly. 'But it has been years since I came across a stimulating opponent.'

There it was, the offer, plain and simple and finally out in the open. Dumbledore levelled his gaze and bore it into hers. Thankfully, Lyra had had plenty of experience fending off these sorts of attacks. She had no trouble holding her own gaze, no matter how quickly her heart was beating.

'Well maybe you'll find someone up to the challenge yet, professor.'

She didn't feel at all relieved when Dumbledore released a smile.

'Let us hope so, Miss Black.' His smile widened for a fraction of a second before it settled. 'Well if there really isn't anything you would like to talk about then you should probably be getting back to your Common Room.'

Lyra nodded her head once and tried not to stand up too quickly. She had just started walking away from him when the headmaster spoke again.

'Madam Pomfrey tells me that you haven't yet been to see her yet?'

He said it so casually that he may have been enquiring about a meeting between friends that he had helped set up. It was then that Lyra realised that whilst James was writing Lily about what happened, James' parents had no doubt been writing Dumbledore.

She turned and faced him. 'Mrs Potter gave me some potions and salve before I left. I've not yet needed to replace them.' Liar. The salve ran out a day ago, the potions two days before that.

Dumbledore nodded politely. 'Even so, it would be wise if you went to see her so she can check on your progress.' He leaned in ever so slightly and dipped his head so as to look at her over the tops of his glasses. Lyra resisted the urge to be unnerved by the intensity of those blue orbs that seemed to look right through her.

'Yes, sir, I will.' Then she turned and left the room trying to ignore the three sets of eyes she could feel burrowing into her back.

XXX

Dumbledore watched her retreat from the room. He was acutely aware that every step she took away from him, the softer the fire – which had quickly, alarmingly, flared back to life from throughout their conversation – seemed to become.

Even after she'd left, he kept his eyes fixed on the spot she'd disappeared from.

'I see what you mean, Albus,' said a voice from above. Dumbledore looked up to see Phineas looking at the same spot he had been. 'She's getting worse.' He looked to Dumbledore. 'Do you think she knows?'

'Perhaps.'

'What are you going to do?'

Dumbledore considered this for a long moment before releasing a heavy breath.

'I'm not entirely sure.'

'Perhaps you should ask that bird of yours.'

Dumbledore turned slowly around, shocked to see Fawkes staring intensely, curiously, at the same spot.


	11. Chapter 11

**And my life seems to be relatively back to normal once again. Although I'm working A LOT at the moment hence all the sporadic updates – I've kinda been doing it whenever I get a free second . . .**

 **So this is the last chapter I got up to in my rework so the space between this one and the next might be a little while (sorry!)**

 **Thanks to everyone who's joined the list of favourite/followers for this fic and thanks again to those loyal reviewers.**

 **Hope you enjoy this one and don't forget to tell me what you think!**

* * *

' _You … you made me think I was going insane.'_

' _For the mission to run the smoothest possible course it was a … necessary requirement that your mental stability be compromised,' he recited factually._

' _You're sick,' Sirius sneered. He was still struggling against the ropes binding his wrists, barring his teeth in anger, frustration and pain, all in equal measure, he tried to twist free_. _'I'm going to kill you.'_

 _In spite of wanting to appear formidable given how angry he was, given the fact that his blood was no longer blood but lava running like rapids through his veins, Sirius stilled as the man approached._

' _No, Mr Black. You're going to save me.'_

* * *

Her head was spinning . . . and she wasn't even sure why.

It could have been from what could very well have been the strangest, most intense, most nerve-wracking conversation of her life – from everything Dumbledore said, and didn't say, and all the things that had hidden behind his carefully chosen speeches. A part of her wanted to turn around, storm back into his office, demanding that he cease speaking in riddles and just come out and say what she knew he was desperate to say to her.

Or it could have been from the pressure in her head she hadn't realised was there until she started descending the spiral steps – a pressure that had been so heavy that when it had suddenly stopped, she'd had to grip the wall to stop from falling over from light-headedness.

Or it could have been from whatever had happened with that phoenix. It was testing her somehow. Maybe it had been seeing how she would react to the magic it had pushed towards her. Whatever it had been doing, for whatever reasons it had been doing it, Lyra did not appreciate it. She was not some creature to be poked and prodded.

Lyra adjusted her red and gold scarf tighter around her neck, ignoring the sweat she could feel beneath her layers when she saw movement from further down the corridor. She looked up just in time to see someone walking away from her. A dark, long-haired haired someone. They rounded the corner and she caught a flash of green material.

'Regulus?' Lyra said, walking towards the corridor he'd just turned into. 'Regulus!' She rounded the corner in time to see him already half way down the corridor. 'Regulus, wait!'

She wasn't sure if he hadn't heard her or was simply ignoring her but he continued to walk as if she wasn't there.

She'd reached a jog by the time she rounded the next corner. Skidding to a halt she was startled to see that it wasn't Regulus at all who stood by a window to meet her.

'Snape.' She tried not to let her frustration and confusion show but it was difficult. She knew who she'd seen. Even though Snape, too, had long and dark hair and wore the green Slytherin robes, she _knew_ that she had been following Regulus.

Snape raised a single eyebrow at her but said nothing.

Lyra debated whether to ask where Regulus had gone but instead said, 'Decided to take a stroll in the moonlight?'

Light from the moon was indeed bathing the corridor in a pale blue, beaming glow, flooding through the open window. Snape turned to peer out of it, surveying the grounds with passing interest.

'Well,' he said calmly, 'it _does_ seem to be a rather popular activity amongst some.' He looked right at her now, as if daring her to say something else on the matter.

She turned to leave but hadn't made it two metres away when he spoke, clear voice carrying through the hall like a leaf on a river.

'I heard the most interesting rumour the other day.'

She tensed immediately and suddenly was acutely aware of her breathing, of the air rushing into her lungs and struggling to escape.

'Well,' she mocked him, grateful to discover that her voice was steady, 'you know what they say about rumours,' she turned to him, 'best just to ignore them, they often lead to more trouble than they're worth.'

He hadn't lowered his brow. 'And yet it's surprising how many of them tend to be based in fact.'

'And who did you hear this rumour from exactly?' She asked, having lost her patience for subtlety.

Snape didn't answer, but after a few moments of looking at one another, she discovered that he didn't have to.

'Of all the people in the entirety of the world, there is no one I would trust less than Rabastan Lestrange.'

Snape pursed his lips into something that could have passed as a smile … or a sneer. 'Really? Do you distrust everyone you were once close with?'

Lyra tried not to bristle, she tried to twist her mouth into a placating, condescending grin and not into a lip-curling snarl. 'Like I said, it's best to ignore rumours.'

She walked away before he could say anything else, but she couldn't ignore her heart which was pounding just as furiously as the thoughts running through her head.

Where did Regulus go? Had he heard her? She had to find him, talk to him. And what was Lestrange playing at? She shivered at the prospect of having to confront him as well.

XXXXX

By the time Lyra climbed through the portrait hole, she was so exhausted that she hadn't noticed that the Common Room wasn't entirely empty. All she was focussed on was the staircase that would take her to her bed . . . to peace and quiet, even if just for a few hours.

'Lyra?'

Lyra looked around to see James, Peter and Marlene sitting in the armchairs in front of the fire.

 _Great._

'Are you alright?' James asked.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.' Just the effort of talking had her head swaying. 'I'm just a little tired is all.' She made a poor attempt at a smile. 'I think I'm just going to go to bed. Goodnight.'

She was so relieved to find the dormitory empty that she sagged a little on the door before walking further into the room.

With a simple twitch of the fingers, her pyjamas soared into her hands as she entered the bathroom.

Closing the door with a soft click, a wave of nausea crashed over her and she lurched forwards, gripping either side of the sink. The room span and swayed. Once she could stand to have her eyes open without feeling as if she were at sea, she looked up into the mirror.

She had to fight with herself not to look away.

Her face was pale and sickly. She could see the film of sweat that clung to her skin and felt it sliding ever-so-slowly down the rest of her body. Her eyes were bloodshot and looked almost as heavy as they felt, dark smudges stained the skin beneath them. She could only hope that she hadn't looked this bad when she was in Dumbledore's office.

She was shaking slightly as she started to fumble with the buttons of her shirt.

If she'd thought her face looked bad, it was nothing compared to what lay concealed under her shirt.

Three long, thick, deep scars tore across her stomach. All three were excruciatingly pink, raw, spots of blood outlined the edges of the largest scar. But the state of the scars was not what sent Lyra into a horror-stricken panic. The scars had been getting progressively worse since she'd returned to Hogwarts, so the blood starting to peak through wasn't surprising, in fact, she'd been half expecting it. It was the skin surrounding the scars that had her gripping the sink tighter.

The veins around her stomach, normally hidden and forgotten, had become black and raised. They stretched from the scars, a festering, scrambled maze trying desperately to crawl it's way outwards. It had definitely spread. And it had definitely become more painful. What had been meerly annoying twinges on the train two weeks ago had grown into something far more excruciating. Intense waves of pain cascaded through her, making the room sway. Maybe she should have tried to make Mrs Potter's salve last a little longer, even if it had been next to useless.

Lyra closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Ignoring the pain, she concentrated instead on the pressure that had been slowly building from deep within herself. She imagined it as a pile of bright light, she scooped the light up in her arms and swept it over herself. The pressure now moved throughout her, rolling waves of heat, she felt it travel down the length of her arms and pool in the tips of her fingers.

When her hands had been enveloped in a comfortable warmth, bordering on an itchy heat, Lyra opened her eyes again.

Never taking straying from the reflection of her stomach, she raised her now-luminescent hands to her wounds. Her fingertips shone the brightest and they contrasted so shockingly against the blackened veins as she pressed them against the fettered tendrils.

With a long exhale, Lyra released the hold she'd been using to keep that pool contained to her hands.

It was like dipping into a pool of cool water on a hot summer's day. Instant relief had her eyes closing and her head lolling forwards a sigh, long and unrestricted, sliding from her.

The black tendrils receded at a steady pace. The longer she held her fingers against her stomach however, the less her hands continued to glow and the more effort she had apply in order for them to remain bright.

When the last of the black vanished, Lyra let her hands fall. She was panting again, but at least this time her breathlessness had nothing to do with pain.

XXXXXX

'Do you think she's alright?' Peter asked when Lyra disappeared upstairs. 'Only . . . she looked awfully pale.'

Marlene looked to James and saw her own concern reflected. He opened his mouth to respond but at that same moment, the portrait hole opened again.

Sirius, followed by Remus, Lily and Mary, stumbled into the room, all three were laughing deeply. Their laughter died quickly when they caught sight of the others.

'What is it?' Lily asked, looking straight at James.

James, looking rather unsure as to how to respond, looked first to Peter, then to Marlene before settling on the stairs to the girl's dormitories.

'Is it Lyra?' Sirius asked at once.

Marlene quietly noticed how Remus's posture tensed somewhat. Whether it was due to Sirius' tone or the fact that Lyra's name had been mentioned, she wasn't sure.

'Is she back?' Sirius pressed on. 'Where is she?'

'She's gone to bed,' James said, holding up his hands for Sirius to slow down. 'She wasn't looking the best.'

Sirius trudged towards the closest chair and fell into it with a certain level of grace only he could manage without meaning to. Remus, after a beat, mirrored Sirius' actions, sitting down on the lounge next to Peter.

After a short silence, Sirius looked up and found Marlene's eyes instantly, his own full of desperate worry. He went to say something but he didn't have to. He'd always been fairly easy to read.

Marlene rose from her spot. 'I'll go check on her,' she said, placing a hand on Sirius' arm on her way past.

Sirius didn't say anything, didn't offer any form of thanks as she climbed up the stairs. He simply stared at the spot on his arm where her hand had touched him.

XXXX

Lyra was halfway through pulling her pyjama top gingerly over her head when someone banged on the door.

'Lyra?'

Lyra jumped, wincing immediately. She went to answer but decided that the effort required to do so wouldn't be worth it, Marlene could wait.

'Lyra, are you alright in there?'

Marlene may as well have been pounding against Lyra's skull. She held her head, rubbing her temples hard, trying to get it to just stop throbbing.

But Marlene's pace had increased. Without looking in the mirror, Lyra spun around and yanked the door open. The blonde stood before her, mouth open mid-yell, hand up ready to bang on the door that was longer there.

Her dumbfounded expression held as Lyra brushed past her, but she recovered quickly. Sensing Lyra's mood, Marlene merely walked toward her own bed.

'How was detention?'

'Fine,' was all the response she got as the dark-haired girl climbed into her four-poster.

'Well, what happen ––'

She was cut short when Lyra pulled the curtains around her bed closed.

With a silent sigh, Marlene made her way back down to the Common Room, all the while cursing the Black temper.

She'd long since recognised the difference between the twins and how they dealt with things that didn't agree with them.

Sirius, she imagined, would have been the sort of child to throw immeasurable, painful tantrums. She could just picture a three-year-old version of him, throwing things, stomping his little feet into the ground, shouting in a high-pitched squeal. Even now, as an adult, Sirius seemed to live by the motto 'do now, think later' . . . _If ever._

Lyra, however . . . Marlene was secretly incredibly grateful that she had never been the cause of upsetting her dark-haired friend. To say that Lyra gave the silent treatment would have been a gross under exaggeration. After all, Lyra was a Black and along with the temper, the twins had also inherited the signature Black mask. Unreadable and unrelenting.

But where Sirius didn't quite know what to do with it or how to use it, the mask fixed could fix itself so naturally to Lyra's features that anyone meeting her for the first time whilst she was in a mood would have them checking their every move for fear of annoying her further.

It had taken a few years for Marlene to figure out how to handle the two.

Confront for Sirius, retreat like hell for Lyra.

Although she didn't really have to concern herself all that much with the former, which was a shame really. Out of the two, Sirius' reactions did prove the most entertaining.

'Maybe talk to her tomorrow,' she said when she re-entered the Common Room and found six pairs of eyes on her – Dorcas had joined them from her late-night activities. 'She's very tired.'

Sirius' jaw was clamped, a muscle there twitching to a furious beat, his hands wrung together and his naturally tanned skin had a pink hue to them.

 _Four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . ._

Sirius shot up from the lounge and stormed up the stairs to his dormitory without a word or look to any of them.

Marlene watched him go, not at all surprised when the others – led by James – quickly followed.

From out the corner of her eye, Marlene saw Dorcas move forward, as if to chase after Sirius herself. Without looking at the auburn-haired girl, Marlene said blandly, 'Don't bother, Dorcas.' She didn't acknowledge the glare she received in response.

XXX

He didn't know why he was so . . . angry. He'd always looked up to Dumbledore, he'd done so much for the school, so much for Remus. If it weren't for Dumbledore, Remus might be living a very different life right now, probably stuck in the twentieth house his parents had moved him in to.

But the thought of Dumbledore and Lyra being in the same room together . . . He didn't know why it made him anxious to the point of annoyance, of restlessness, maybe it was because he knew how Lyra felt about it all. But he'd told himself years ago that he wouldn't let her emotions dictate his own.

 _Obviously, easier said than done._

The others had followed him into the dormitory, and even though James looked seconds away from speaking, the look on Sirius' face must have made him think twice about it. He passed Sirius who sat red-faced and silent and made his way to his own four-poster, ever-so-slowly getting ready for bed.

The threat of delving into an unbreakable silence ended when Peter gave a small yelp – he'd forgotten his bag down in the Common Room and had forgotten all about the essay he'd been working on. As Peter left the room to go finish the last couple of sentences, James retreated into the bathroom.

'Do you think she's okay?'

Out the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Remus jump slightly, he could tell that he'd startled Remus by talking, even more so that he'd addressed him directly. To his credit though Remus only took a moment, deciding what he wanted to say . . . or rather, what he could say that wouldn't risk his head being bitten off.

'Are _you_ okay?'

Sirius smirked humourlessly at the question. Maybe Remus really did know more than he let on.

Sirius thought about it for a moment and it was an odd sensation. Most of him was fine – after all, he was free, he was back at his true home, with his true family, why wouldn't he be fine? – but there was another part of him, a part that hid somewhere in the background, between his ribs and his spine, that really wasn't fine.

Something was off with Lyra . . . and he didn't care who was older, he was going to find out what it was.

XXXXX

 _She stood in the middle of a narrow hallway. Everything seemed to tower over her. She had to strain her neck slightly to see the many elf heads that hung along the wall, which were mere silhouette's in the shadows._

 _From somewhere down the halls, echoes of sobbing drifted towards her. It was a pitiful sound – choking and whining. As she stood there she had the strange feeling, like that noise was pulling at her. But she did not want to go to it. She was afraid of what she might find, why would someone cry like that, as if they were in pain, but from deep within them?_

 _Suddenly she was half way down the hall and the sobbing had reached an ear-splitting pitch. Then she was by the door at the end of the hall, the sobs full-blown shrieks of agony and desperation._

 _She threw her hands over ears and made to peer into the room when the shrieks changed all at once. Removing her hands, she found that the cries had stopped, replaced with delighted, tinkling laughter._

 _Cold fear flooded through her, rooting her to the spot where she stood. Strange that she should have such a reaction to laughter and not screaming. A young boy with shoulder length black hair came skipping from the room. Her panic peaked when the boy turned to her on his way past._

 _He had no face._

 _Where eyes, a nose and mouth should have been, there was nothing but an expanse of smooth skin. It reminded her of a mannequin's head. But without a doubt, the laughter that continued to ring was coming from this faceless boy._

 _When the boy was half way down the hall, he stopped suddenly and turned back around._

 _She would have bet anything that if he had had eyes, he would have been looking right at her._

' _Come on!' The voice came from the blank head. 'It's this way.'_

What was? _She looked around, then back to the boy. She recognised the setting now. She was in Grimmauld Place. But who was this boy supposed to be? Why had he been crying so horribly? Had he done something bad? She didn't want to get in trouble._

 _The boy sounded excited now though. It would be rude of her not to follow, yet she still felt that dread snagging some corner of her mind. He was just a little boy, what harm could he do?_

 _She made to move to follow him but her feet wouldn't move, everything from her ankles to her toes felt unbelievably heavy. Looking down, she gasped._

 _The floor below her was no longer solid. It was pulling her down quickly._

 _She tried pulling her feet out but it was no use._

' _Help!' She called to the boy. The floor had reached her knees. 'Help me!'_

 _But the boy did nothing but faced her as she struggled._

 _She descended into complete hysteria as she sunk further and further. She called out to the boy, pleading, begging for him to help her, but he didn't move. For some inexplicable reason, she had the feeling that, if he had a mouth, it would have been curling up into a sinister sort of smile._

 _The floor was now at her ribs. She felt it surround her ribs. She couldn't breathe. She clawed at the ground, her nails digging into the polished, wooden floorboards. But still she sank._

 _It was at her shoulders now. Her arms were trapped. Her throat was closing up. It was getting harder to see. She couldn't move. Why wasn't he helping her? She squeezed her eyes shut as the floor consumed her._

Lyra jerked from the bed. She was covered in sweat yet was shivering with cold, her pyjamas sticking to every inch of skin they touched.

That was the fourth dream – nightmare – she'd had in the last seven days. And they were getting worse. It took her hours to fall asleep now and when she did it was restless – always teetering on the edge of consciousness and a light layer of dozing. And even if she were lucky enough to find any sort of deep sleep it would be filled with cryptic and frightening images. She was lucky to be getting three hours sleep a night now.

The one thing that hadn't seemed to escape her was her appetite. Every time she jerked awake from a bad dream, or even after she'd simply laid in bed with her eyes closed for most of the night, she found herself famished from it.

Gently placing her feet on the floor, she rose from the bed, thanking Merlin that the moonlight was bright enough to illuminate her path to the door. She vaguely remembered a plate of biscuits that someone had left in the Common Room and as she made her way down the stairs she just prayed that the House Elves hadn't cleared them away.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs she spotted the plate almost immediately, and almost immediately following that she spotted someone sitting on the couch in front of a still crackling fire . . . a very familiar someone.

Picking up the plate and making sure that her night shirt covered her stomach, Lyra made her way around to the couch. She was already munching on a biscuit by the time she sat down next to Remus.

For a time the only sounds that could be heard were the cracks of the embers and Lyra's soft chewing. Lyra didn't know if she wanted to talk . . . she didn't know if she could without screaming – the images of her nightmare still haunting her thoughts.

'You never got a birthday party.'

Lyra frowned. Out of all the things Remus could have said in this moment, this was not what she'd been expecting.

'Everyone was so caught up in throwing the most legendary party possible for Sirius that no one really realised that it was your birthday too.'

Lyra turned to him. He was gazing into the fire – a small triangle had formed between his eyebrows – something that always happened when he was concentrating.

'I don't know,' Lyra said, admiring the way his hair seemed to absorb the firelight, seemed to glow the way _it_ glowed, 'I thought we celebrated it quite nicely.' She smiled as she thought of the night they spent in the Room of Requirement – a room they'd told no one about, not even the other Marauders. Remus had set it up to resemble an old muggle movie theatre. They'd watched and laughed and ate to their hearts content until the movie ended and the room shifted. Lyra remembered how they'd lost themselves in each other that night. That night there was no one telling them that they were too dangerous . . . too different. That night it had just been the two of them, and she would gladly give up the rest of her days so that every night was like that one.

Remus was smiling softly now too, but it vanished as he shook his head. Turning to her for the first time he reached out and took her hand in his, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. He searched her eyes for a moment, focussing a moment longer on what she knew were the rings of silver around her eyes. Remus brought his other hand to rest against her cheek. As soon as it made contact with the side of her face, Lyra instinctively pressed into it, closing her eyes.

'Just because you're not used to attention, Lyra, doesn't mean you don't deserve it.'

She felt the couch dip as Remus leaned in. She felt his lips press against hers in a silent plea to which she responded to firmly. She felt his hands leave her face and hand, her skin going instantly cold. The couch dipped in again as he got up. She listened to the sound of his footsteps cross the floor and climb the stairs. She kept her eyes closed until long after he'd left and the sound of the fire was once again the only thing filling the room.

'Lyra!'

Lyra's eyes flew open, the plate in her hand jumping with her, the biscuits rolling away into the shadows. But Lyra didn't notice. She stared at the spot next to the fireplace, because standing there, looking down at her with a look of complete and utter devastation on their face was ––

'Regulus?'

Lyra blinked again in shock, but in the space of a blink, Regulus had vanished.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Do we think Lyra might be going a little coo-coo? And what about all the Sirius stuff? And is there anyone's POV you'd like me to explore more? (I know a lot of questions - but what can I say, I'm a curious person! haha)**


	12. Chapter 12

**So I hope I'm wrong in assuming this is riddled with grammatical errors and typos as I rush-typed some parts, but I just wanted to get something out there for you guys!**

 **This is a bit of a filler chapter (or at least, that's how it feels to me – you can tell me if I'm wrong or not) but it'll all have relevance in the larger story.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _'I know you two were . . . close and I know you're hurting right now but –'_

 _'No,' Sirius said quickly, cutting her off. 'That's just it, she was my friend and I don't feel anything.'_

 _'Don't lie to me!'_

 _'And how do you know I'm lying?' A stupid thing to say, but he wanted to spit something in her face and he didn't think about what he was saying._

 _'Because I can feel it!' She looked down at him, pain clearly filling her eyes. 'I can feel it. And don't you dare convince yourself that feeling nothing is better than feeling pain . . . or loss . . . She deserves more than nothing.'_

* * *

Even days later the bizarre conversation that had taken place during her detention with Dumbledore, not to mention the even more odd encounter with his phoenix, was still causing her to lose focus. More than once in Ancient Runes, Professor Weatherby had to remind her to pay attention. But try as she might, she couldn't get those flaming eyes out of her mind.

That bird . . . it did something that night. It was a curious creature – it was testing her. Curiosity is a dangerous thing. Which meant that the bird was too. Lyra had survived this long by surrounding herself with people who didn't ask too many questions . . . Well the exception being Sirius and James but James was never stupid enough to let his curiosity lead to her. If it ever did, she trusted Sirius to put a stop to it. But Sirius couldn't protect her against a phoenix . . . Professor Dumbledore's phoenix no less.

And then there was the man himself. She hadn't missed the meaning behind his words, multiple as they had been. She replayed their conversation over and over in her mind, yet she still couldn't decide whether he was being genuinely curious about her or if he was threatening her. Either one could be possible, although she kept leaning towards the latter. She'd never trusted Dumbledore, and she didn't think she ever would. But if there was one thing she would never allow herself to do, it was to rise to someone else's threat – Dumbledore could goad her all he wanted, she would never let him know what she could do. The risk of word spreading was far too great, even if she had trusted him in the first place.

Even now, sitting in the Great Hall, she could feel his eyes on her. He was never at lunch. At least he was choosing not to insult her intelligence by trying to pretend he wasn't there to watch her. Well she wouldn't look . . . She'd continue ignoring him . . . He might be able to rope the others into his messes but –

A laugh jostled her. James and Sirius were howling with laughter – someone must've said something funny . . . she didn't bother smiling.

When they calmed down it didn't take her long to realise that they were discussing the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.

'Well I wasn't going to go . . . ' Lily said meekly trailing off.

'But then I convinced her that if she didn't get out of this place every once in a while, she may actually go completely stir crazy.' James looked awfully pleased that he'd managed to change her mind on the matter. 'Honestly, Lils it's called _Nearly Exhausting_ tests, they don't actually expect you to collapse from study.'

Marlene's eye roll and muttering at this wasn't missed by Sirius who leaned back in his spot on the bench to look at her. 'What's that, McKinnon?'

Marlene leaned back. She looked at him steadily for a second, not saying anything before she faced the others again.

 _At least there are some things that have never change_ , Lyra thought, watching the exchange. 'How about you, Lyra?' Lily asked. 'You planning on going?'

The Hogsmeade weekend was set for tomorrow, and what with the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw on Tuesday night, it was safe to say the Marauders were going to be in fine form. Lyra could imagine the lot of them running a mock in Hogsmeade. Thankfully she's be out of firing range. Lyra nodded whilst she chewed. 'In the afternoon maybe, I have a bit of homework to get done,' she said. 'I have to admit, they've gotten better the last few trips.'

Marlene narrowed her eyes at Lyra. The blonde knew full well that Lyra had been keeping up to date with the heavy workload – unbeknownst to Marlene, Lyra was only doing this to distract herself from the pain coming from her stomach. Marlene's eyes flickered to Remus who sat a few seats away and then back to Lyra who simply answered the look with a small, baiting smile.

'Well I've got a free period and Hagrid's invited me to some tea. Lyra, would you like to join me?'

Lyra looked away from Marlene's accusatory eyes only to meet Lily's expectant ones. 'Uh – sure.' She stood, purposefully putting her back to the High Table where Dumbledore sat.

As they walked away from the group James called out after them, 'That's fine, we've got Quidditch practice anyways!'

Lily just shook her head, a small smile adorning her face.

Lily and Lyra walked down to Hagrid's in silence. Every now and then someone would call out a hello to Lily as they passed. Lily would answer hello back, always smiling. Lyra tried not to notice whenever their eyes slid to her. Some of them looked like they were going to acknowledge her as well, but they seemed to think better of it, something that she was overall very thankful for. Lily either didn't notice this or if she did, she didn't seem to care as they continued down the lawn to the hut that stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forrest.

Lily knocked on Hagrid's door when they arrived, they were immediately met with high-pitched barks coming from the other side – a sound that made Lyra smile instantly. A second later the door swung open, revealing Hagrid in all his monstrous height and hair. His beady black eyes crinkled in a smile as he beheld the two girls.

'Well 'ello Lyra. Wasn't expectin' you,' he said, ushering the girls inside.

Lyra always enjoyed spending time with Hagrid. She found him calming somehow, and there was always something new and wholly different in his hut whenever she visited. Last time she'd visited he'd introduced her to his new Boarhound puppy, Fang, who was now bounding towards her. For a moment, Lyra thought he'd skid right past her but he reared up at the last possible second and started to jump on his hind legs around her feet. She bent down and scooped him up, twisting her face away from his lapping tongue.

'I asked Lyra if she'd like to join me,' Lily told Hagrid as she took a seat. 'I hope that's alright?'

'O' course it is!' Hagrid boomed loudly. Too loudly.

Lyra looked at him and watched as he unhooked the kettle from it's place over the fire. Still watching him, Lyra took the seat next to Lily around the round dining table. Hagrid had already laid out some tea cups for himself and Lily, but as he moved to the cabinet to pull out another cup, Lyra could have sworn that she heard a sniff. A quick glance to Lily told her that she had noticed it too.

Fang yelped for Lyra's attention and she had no choice but to turn back to the puppy lest he squirmed right out of her arms straight onto the table. She was just about to tell the little thing to calm down when a loud tinkling crash made her jump.

Hagrid had dropped the third tea cup, it slid across the table, rolling over and over, heading straight for the edge. Thankfully, Lyra managed to get a hand free out from under Fang and grabbed the cup before it had a chance to slide right off the table and shatter on the floor.

'Hagrid!' Lily blurted. 'What's wrong?'

Hagrid fumbled after the cup for a moment before realising that it was now being held firmly by Lyra, who only frowned up at him. He set the kettle on the table before untying the half apron from around his waist.

'It's nothin'. Nothin',' he muttered, turning away from them. Another sniff sounded.

'If this is about what Renata Skeeter was saying the other day ––'

Lily looked aghast. 'Renata Skeeter? That idiot girl from Ravenclaw?' she asked.

Lyra gave her a look and a little shrug as if to say _who else?_

'What did she – oh.' Lily's face darkened as she remembered the horrible things they'd caught Renata saying the other day in the girl's bathroom. The next day, her not-so-secret opinions had spread throughout the school. 'Now, Hagrid you listen to me,' Lily said, watching Hagrid like a hawk as he took a seat across from them.

Lyra couldn't help but give Fang a pointed look. _This is sure to be good, make sure you listen too._ Fang barked happily and wagged his tail.

Lily waited until Hagrid had poured them all tea before she started. 'Hagrid, how many students say hello to you when you see them?' She didn't wait for an answer before continuing. 'How many students do you know by name? Or who come to you when they need someone to talk to?'

Lyra could see where she was going with this and by the way Hagrid's shoulders relaxed, he was starting to understand as well.

'Just because you don't have the title of Professor, doesn't mean you're not important. Just because you don't have a classroom, doesn't mean you don't teach.'

Hagrid's eyes were positively brimming with unshed tears.

'There's no Hogwarts without you, Hagrid.'

Lyra looked back to the puppy in her arms. _Okay, that might have been a bit much._ Fang nuzzled her palm in apparent agreement. She made sure to smile convincingly when Hagrid looked to her for confirmation, however.

Hagrid gave an odd sort of grunting huff. Lyra assumed that he was trying his best to regain his composure before he actually started to burst out crying. With one last sniff, he settled himself further into his enormous chair.

'Well enough about tha',' he said, waving a hand the size of a garbage bin lid. Lyra tried not to flinch out of its way. 'An' how're you two doin'? I heard about wha' happened over Christmas, Lyra. Nasty stuff tha'.'

Lyra opened her mouth but she didn't know what to say. The beauty about coming to Hagrid's was that he did most of the talking, whether about his animals, or the forest or things he'd caught Sirius and James doing about the castle. She'd never really felt a pressing need to contribute, and she especially wasn't used to being called on to comment about things of such a personal, and in her opinion, embarrassing, nature.

Thankfully she'd come with Lily this time.

'She's fine, Hagrid,' Lily said in a rather matter-of-fact tone although with the sideways glance she threw at Lyra, Lyra couldn't help but wonder if she was trying to convince herself of that as well as Hagrid. 'I'd say her and Sirius are quite glad to be at the Potter's now,' she turned to Lyra. 'Isn't that right?'

Lyra could only nod.

Liar.

Hagrid didn't look entirely convinced as he looked from Lily to Lyra. 'Hm. Well I don't like to –'

A series of low grunts and shouts, followed by the sounds of hooves on hard ground erupted from the tree line. All three turned to look out the hut's window. It was unlikely that Hagrid or Lily could see anything but Lyra could feel them out there.

'The centaurs have been a might restless these las' few days. Keep spoutin' on about dark ripples around the grounds an' all sorts – dark ripples pushing the boundaries of silver.' Hagrid scoffed. 'The one time they're not talkin' about moons and planets and they still make no sense.'

'Centaurs?' Lily was almost jumping out of her chair. 'You talk to them? What are they like?'

Hagrid's eyes positively lit up at someone else's enthusiasm and launched into a passionate speech about the centaur clan that called the Forbidden Forest their home. Lily listened with rapt attention but Lyra's hand, that had been busying itself with scratching Fang's small head, had stilled.

Something about Hagrid's words made her pause. Ripples? Surely it was just some nonsensical ramblings from the centaurs. They were always spurting on about the shifts in moon patterns and making outrageous prophecies. Not that Lyra believed in prophecies . . . to be honest, she found astronomy to be a bit of a stretch. But that word . . . _ripple_. It perfectly described what she experienced on a daily basis. Her world was composed of ripples.

Lyra shook her head. She was being outrageous. The centaurs scoff at the stupidity and arrogance of wizards. They wouldn't use such words deliberately if they thought she might pick up on some sort of hidden meaning.

But try as she might, she couldn't unhook her attention from the forest, even with Fang now chewing her fingers.

XXXXXXXXX

Marlene McKinnon was not normally perturbed, by anything. There were few things that jostled her. She didn't care how much Lyra deflected, there was something going on between Remus and that girl. Oh, they were both very good at not calling attention to themselves. She didn't think she'd ever seen them together much in public. But there'd been one too many coincidences for her not to notice.

Lyra knew she was suspicious of them, but annoyingly she'd remained characteristically aloof about it whenever Marlene tried to goad it out of her. Frustration was starting to get the better of her, but surprisingly hurt hadn't stepped in yet.

Thankfully, she was almost always able to maintain her calm. If she could survive growing up with four older brothers, she could surely get through a couple more months of school – annoying mysteries or no.

A simpering high-pitched giggle echoed through the corridor.

Yes, she'd survive . . . even if she was surrounded by idiots.

She purposefully avoided looking in the direction where Black was leaning against the wall, an arm propping him up, his hand splayed next to the head of a small red headed girl wearing a Ravenclaw uniform. Marlene might have considered recalling her name, if she cared at all.

When Marlene was a couple of meters away from passing them, she saw Black look up just in time to spot her.

Marlene supressed a grin as her lips started to curl.

'Out for a walk with all your friends, McKinnon?'

Marlene almost snorted at his predictability. She paused, sparing a glance in his direction before inspecting the Ravenclaw girl slowly, up and down. Clementine, she remembered, such a boring name, no doubt with a personality to match. She'd pity the girl for this unfortunate shortcoming if she wasn't already pitying her for something much worse . . . her poor taste.

'Out with all yours, Black?'

As expected, he looked as if he wanted to retort but he knew that that would mean she'd have won that point. That's how they worked, that's how they'd always worked she supposed. At first it was probably due to the fact that they'd both been close to James – she'd been close to him first, mind – but over the years it had grown deeper, and much more entertaining . . . on her part anyway, she didn't really concern herself with what he thought about their rivalry.

When Black had regained his cool composure, he slung an arm around Clementine, grinning as he did so. 'Finally found a woman with some class in this place.'

This time she wasn't sure that she didn't snort. She had a fair idea of what Black meant and it had nothing to do with how sharp-witted the Ravenclaw was. But instead of losing herself to laughter like she was so tempted to do, Marlene hoisted her bag's strap further onto her shoulder and walked steadily towards the pair, all the while looking at Clementine.

'Y'know,' she said in her most effortlessly factual voice once she'd reached them, 'five years from now you'll be sitting in your parents dining room, watching your infant child running around with yet another rejection letter clutched in your hands and you'll wonder, where did it all start sliding downhill? I mean, you were in Ravenclaw, you were intuitive, you were getting fairly good grades and even had some potential jobs lined up after you'd graduated. And then your child will turn to you wearing their usual one-sided grin and it'll all come rushing back to you – the reason you were forced to grow up and become a mother, two things you definitely weren't expecting nor wanted. And you'll come to another realisation, you'll realise that while you're sitting there, worrying about grown up things, he'll still be out there, acting no more mature than your child, and you'll probably ask yourself if it was worth it.' Marlene leaned in closer. 'I have a feeling the answer would probably be no.'

Marlene had to give herself some credit for a flawless performance. She was even more pleased when Clementine, after processing – of course – gave a long sideways glance at Sirius before stepping away from him, forcing his arm to drop from her shoulders.

'I have to go.'

'Wait, where are you going?' Sirius called out after her, but it was no use, the girl might as well have been escaping a werewolf from how fast she was walking.

Marlene only smirked at him when he finally faced her, shaking his head.

'No wonder your friends ditched you.'

'I didn't really expect her to reject you so obviously, but, I guess I can consider it an added bonus.'

Something over Sirius' shoulder had her smirk widen.

'Besides, who says that _they_ ditched _me_?'

She smiled to the figure who'd been waving to her as he approached the pair.

When Bertram Aubrey spotted Sirius, however, the grin he'd been eagerly wearing slackened as he looked unsurely between the two.

'Uh, hey,' he said, turning to face Marlene directly, seemingly ignoring Sirius.

Ignoring him yes, but in an extremely polite way – that boy really did have everyone bedazzled.

'We're still good for Hogsmeade tomorrow?'

 _No, we've had this set up for weeks but I've waited until the last possible second to change my mind, because obviously I'm just as fickle as every other simpleminded bimbo in this school. Been speaking to Clementine, have we._

Marlene nodded.

'Great, I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall.'

Sirius felt both like laughing out loud and cursing the boy on the spot - his previous frustration still simmering uncomfortably in his chest. Wrestling with this he managed to push out a questioning, disbelieving smirk at him. 'Her? Really?' He said, pointing to Marlene, who simply raised an eyebrow, that insufferable smirk still firmly in place.

Aubrey spluttered for an answer for a moment, probably trying to figure out if the question was one he was expected to answer, the urge to laugh grew.

Fortunately for Aubrey, the warning bell for last period sounded.

'Well McKinnon, if you'd excuse me. And I do hope you have a lovely day tomorrow with your . . .' he looked to Aubrey, narrowing his eyes in thought. '. . . articulate friend.' His words were positively soaking in sarcasm and while Aubrey frowned, Marlene offered a crooked smile before walking away from him, apparently not caring if Aubrey was following her or not as he chased after her.

He watched her walk the rest of the way down the corridor, Aubrey still throwing suspicious looks over his shoulder as he followed in her wake. Once they were out of sight, Sirius picked his bag up from where he'd dumped it against the wall and turned in the opposite direction.

There were times when he just wanted to know exactly what that girl was thinking. It frustrated him to no end the way she always looked as if she had some sort of hidden agenda, and the way she smiled that little smile that warned that no matter what he did he was doing exactly what she wanted him to do. And there was a small part of him that curtly reminded him that he should be grateful, that she helped Lyra in a way not he, nor anyone else could do.

That small part though was easy to ignore. It made plenty of room for the much louder voice that told him that that smile could lead to nothing but trouble. Unfortunately, intrigue always seemed to have him coming back for more, and damn him, it was too entertaining to stop.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

From this view, he could see most of the grounds. He hadn't been up here in quite some time, but he needed to clear his head, to gather some composure, gain some perspective . . . to remind himself of his mission, and what was at stake.

The Hogwarts grounds were fairly unimpressive, he'd seen much grander views, but every now and then something interesting would stumble into his line of sight that warranted his attention. Like a certain someone who was at this very moment making their back up to the castle – the annoying Lily Evans, Head Girl and self-appointed saint in tow.

Lyra Black had been evading him, making it rather difficult to find out what she was hiding. He couldn't let that stop him though.

He couldn't fail.

Only once she'd wondered out of his line of sight did he look back down to the parchment in his hand. He'd read the letter a thousand times, he could probably recite it without so much as glancing at it, but even still, he read it one more time.

 _I appreciate you keeping me updated but it would seem that much more attention needs to be given to our cause. We cannot afford anything to go amiss. There appears to be many more interested parties devoted in claiming a stake in_ _ **our**_ _investment. We must proceed with much more caution if we are to see our plan bear fruit._

 _You said in your last correspondence that there is some sort of recreational day this weekend. In Hogsmeade, if memory serves me correctly. It is there and then that I will meet you so that you can provide me with a more comprehensive update on your progress._

 _Maintain focus and do not succumb to any temptation. Remember why you are doing this._

 _Make your family proud._

 _I will see you soon._


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry for the little wait. Please let me know what you think :)**

* * *

' _I'm fine, Lyra. I'm alright.' Remus' voice came out horribly hoarse._

 _Lyra looked anything but convinced but after allowing a few more minutes to pass, once Remus' breath had settled and the air had calmed, Lyra slowly lowered herself back onto the bed, nestling into his side, her head coming to rest on his chest. Her fingers splayed across his bare skin, her palm was right above his heart as if she needed to feel it, to know that he was still there, still alive, that she hadn't killed him._

 _Remus found himself trying not to gulp . . . she almost had._

 _Silence threatened to consume them. Remus brought his hand to cup her shoulder, whilst she raked his chest softly. Her skin starting to cool._

 _Just when he thought they'd both resign to the darkness and the silence, Lyra said in an impossibly quiet voice, 'Maybe this was a mistake.'_

 _Remus' heart stumbled again. He shifted to look down at the top of her head. 'What? Us?'_

* * *

The minutes just before dawn. It was always her favourite time of day. She used to wake up in the dark and stare out her bedroom window just to watch the light spread across the sky. It would appear well before the sun ever even showed.

It always amazed her how the moon, stars and rays from the sun could all coexist in the same sky. Whoever said that day and night were polar opposites had obviously slept right through this.

It was so still, so quiet, so . . . calm. If only the sun didn't have to rise, if only the moon didn't have to fall, or the stars to fade into the light, to be lost in the brightness. If only the world would just stay sleeping for an hour or two longer What she wouldn't give to have time stand still, to let the calm embrace her.

'How did I know that I'd find you here.'

'Because three years ago you and your little band of friends made a map of the castle so that you could spy on everyone in it.'

'If memory serves, you helped in that particular project.'

Lyra smirked as she turned around, regrettably placing her back to the entrancing view. If she hasn't been expecting it, she would have stumbled over the sight of Remus managing to stand in the thin slivers of soft sunlight, and how his hair and skin and eyes seemed to soak it in. The warmth shone clearest in his own smirk, clearly anticipating the retort she was about to dish out, one she was eager to give.

'As if you'd have managed it on your own. Although it was fun watching the four of you deteriorate into madness trying to figure it out.'

Remus stepped further into the Owlery, leaving the sunlight behind him and Lyra couldn't help but mourn a little at the loss. But then he was before her, his warm arms around her waist, the feeling of his skin against hers as she liked her hands behind his neck and she decided she preferred this sight much more.

'Was it just my imagination or did you hold back on helping us on purpose?'

'Me! I would never!'

Remus only grinned in response. He lent in and rested his forehead against hers.

'What are you telling them?' Lyra asked, eyes closed, breathing in his scent, his own calm.

'Doesn't matter,' he mumbled. 'They won't really believe anything I say anyway.'

'They won't mind, will they?' Lyra pulled away, scanning his face for honesty. They'd often have this discussion about who took precedence, Lyra or the Marauders. Lyra knew how special the friendship Remus shared with them was, she'd never do anything to compromise it, even if that meant spending an anniversary or two apart.

As per usual however, Remus shook his head lightly and said, 'They'll live without me for a day. And if they can't then they're bigger children than I already think they are.'

Lyra pursed her lips, choosing to believe him after a moment. Sighing she lent back in to his embrace, revelling in the feeling of his arms around her. 'I guess I'll see you later then,' she said, her voice muffled by his neck.

Remus chuckled, the vibrations travelling like rolling thunder from his chest to hers. 'I'll try to break free after breakfast.'

Lyra nodded and reluctantly pulled her arms back to her side. Remus simply pressed a short kiss to her cheek before turning and leaving back the way he came.

Lyra watched after him for a while. Sometimes she wouldn't mind if Marlene knew about her and Remus, or if the boys acknowledged it in any way instead of choosing to ignore the issue. Remus made her feel everything she craved, everything her conscience told her she'd never truly have. But he was the proof, and no matter how much she didn't deserve what he offered, she'd take it.

She almost slipped on the sodden ground when she turned around and was met with a great Red and gold face, a face that bore small dark eyes, eyes that shine like precious stones, a face that was attached to an almighty body, a body that was currently perched in the window opposite.

'And what do you think you're doing here?' Straight away, Lyra was very aware of the fact that the next few moments were ones she'd have to navigate carefully. Anything she said or did in front of Fawkes could very easily and quite possibly be relayed back to Dumbledore.

Fawkes simply cocked his head, staring at her inquisitively, with frustrating curiosity.

'This is the Owlery. You are not an owl.'

Fawkes continued to stare, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if wordlessly disciplining her on her obvious cheek. Lyra braced herself as he clicked his beak but nothing happened. It seemed that she'd passed it's test the other night. What she wouldn't have given to fail.

'If you're waiting for something you're going to be disappointed.' She'd be dammed if she'd let everything fall apart because of a bird.

But it was persistent and after another moment of strained silence Lyra had had enough. 'What do you want?' Still, silence. Lyra sighed, frustration lining her innards. 'I'm not going to give you anything to report back to him, so you might as well fly away. And I was here first, I have no intention of being scared off by you.'

For the first time Fawkes blinked at the implied mention of Dumbledore. She didn't know how she could possibly understand, but Lyra knew that Fawkes was not there on behalf of Dumbledore, and that he was not planning on reporting anything back to his master. They were alone up there, just the two of them.

And if that was really the case then Lyra supposed she had nothing to fear. She smirked as she regarded the Phoenix, who's eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

'Firebird, aye?' Lyra murmured, mimicking the bird's movements and cocking her head to the side.

She raised her hand before the bird had a chance to move and blasted him with a gush of icy air. Fawkes clicked his beak sharply before falling from the windowsill and flying away. But Lyra didn't get the chance to bask in her triumph.

The gust of air halted abruptly as pain bloomed throughout her. She dropped her arm, her hands pressing themselves against her stomach tightly, as if trying to push the pain back in. Stumbling, Lyra managed to lean against the doorway whist she rode out wave after wave of pain.

When she at last managed to regain her breath, she glared out the window before carefully making her way back down the Owlery stairs.

'Bloody pelican.'

XXXXXXXXXX

'What d'you think would happen if you ate one?'

The Three Broomsticks was positively humming, full to capacity with excited Hogwarts students, taking a break from their busy day of shopping and sight-seeing, and regular patrons, obviously disgruntled at having to share their daily watering hole with a bunch of over-eager teenagers.

Sirius and James had managed to secure a table in the far corner of the inn while Peter went to grab them their drinks. From this angle the boys could see everything. Not that this held much interest for Sirius, it was always the same – the same group of third years becoming far too excited about finally being able to visit the wizarding town, the same group of girls trying to catch his eye (not that this bothered him too much, but none of them ever did anything beyond winking at him). Even flirting with Rosmerta the young barmaid had lost some of it's appeal. So he'd taken to rifling through their purchases from the new joke shop and was currently inspecting a small dung bomb with mild interest.

James smirked, leaning back in his seat, folding his arms. 'Well, go on then.'

Sirius ignored him. 'You think we should try and slip it into Wormy's food?'

'Nah, that boy stinks enough as it is already.'

Sirius nodded absentmindedly, his gaze finding where Peter stood at the bar, nervously fingering his sickles as he waited for the three butterbeers he'd ordered. Sirius looked around the pub, his eyes jumping from one person to the next.

'Well, we need to try it on some . . .'

Sirius stopped dead. His chest grew immediately heavy and his breath caught in the middle of his throat. The activity in the pub, James asking what was wrong, Peter arriving back at their table, drinks in hand, it all faded into white noise. The only thing that mattered was the world beyond the pub, what Sirius now saw out the front window.

For across the road, walking away from the Three Broomsticks was a hunched, grubby looking witch. A witch that looked uncomfortably familiar, a witch who's voice he'd heard before, a voice that had spoken a handful of words that had come to haunt him. It was the same witch from Knockturn Alley.

Sirius slid from his seat and was out of the pub before anyone could stop him. He didn't hear James call out after him, he didn't bother turning around to check if Peter and James were following him. Nothing mattered, nothing except for the witch, and catching up with her. He didn't know what he'd do if he managed to catch her, but that wasn't important.

The witch turned a corner, continuing her leisurely, slightly hobbled, pace. Sirius maintained his distance. He wanted, he needed to know what she was up to, where she was going, what she was doing here, so far from Knockturn Alley.

James was still calling out his name every so often, but everything else had gone quiet. They'd followed the witch away from the High Street and were now in the less frequented part of the town. Now with nothing else to distract him, the witch's path became clearer. She was heading straight for a building at the end of the street.

Sirius recognised it as the Hog's Head Inn.

The witch was twenty paces from the Inn when she paused. Even though she didn't turn around, didn't make any indication that she'd noticed Sirius or the others in any way, Sirius knew that she'd realised that they were there, following her. She turned from the Inn and hobbled away towards a side alley that lay between two narrow buildings.

'Sirius, wait,' James groaned, his voice carried on the wind that whipped around Sirius' ears.

But Sirius didn't listen to him. He paced up to Inn, stopping at one of the bar's hazy windows. Cleaning it as best he could, he peered inside.

The Hog's Head was notorious for attracting some of the more . . . interesting members of the magical community, today proved to be no exception. The table closest to the front entrance was taken by what appeared to be a group who – by the looks of their skin – could very well have been vampires. A cloaked something sat up by the bar and another group sat at one of the side tables . . . a group wearing robes . . . Hogwarts robes . . . Slytherin robes.

Rabastan fucking Lestrange.

Sirius looked back to where the witch had disappeared and then glared back through the window. An intense urge came over him to storm right in there and demand to know what he was playing at.

He didn't even realise he'd clenched his fist and taken a step towards the door until James' hand clamped down on his shoulder.

'Whatever you're thinking about doing,' he said, looking over Sirius' shoulder into the Inn, 'don't.'

Shoving James' hand off, Sirius moved again, this time to where he'd seen the witch disappear.

It didn't take him very long to reach the place he'd last seen her. The narrow alleyway wasn't very long, there were no side streets, no doorways to walk into and the end of it stared back at him, it's grey bricks stained and chipped. But the witch was nowhere in sight.

His fists clenched again, he could feel his fingernails dig into his palms.

XXXXXXXXX

All around her was still.

The light that had managed to cut through the dense canopy far above streamed down like falling silk. It shone watery-bright amongst the tree trunks. Even though it gave off very little warmth, it's light was enough to rouse the forest to life. Birds chirped, the sound of their beating wings rustled the still air.

From somewhere in the deeper parts of the trees, something let loose a crowing call. It echoed on the wind. Another call answered from a place much closer by. The two creatures continued to talk to each other in their metallic howls, a conversation not grown from hostility, but rather, curiosity. She could almost picture their faces, softly curved but roughened from years in the wilderness.

And if she really paid attention, if she fell into the trees, the air, the mid-morning sun, she could almost _hear_ the petals on the flowers peeling slowly back towards the sun's light. She could almost hear the individual beats of the bee's wings, hovering above those same flowers, moving from one to another in search of nectar.

And if she sunk even further into the forest, with her eyes gently closed, the palms of her hands resting on the damp earth either side of her folded legs, she could feel the ripples rolling smoothly through the trees, off the leaves, across the bee's backs, sparking with soft pops and fizzles around the unknown creatures. The ripples enveloped around her like the flames of a fire. She lost herself in its warmth and felt it as it changed, moving across her skin, on the air, how _she_ changed it, moved it, worked it as one would work clay. It rolled away from her and then was pulled back. it was gently pushed to one said, and then folded in towards the other.

Then it shifted, a spark much larger than the ones currently crackling around the creatures fizzled from somewhere behind her. It continued to grow. The spark whispered to her, at first in warning, but then in welcome. For this spark was a familiar one and she focussed on it coming closer, all the while, feeling the ripples surrounding her grow warmer, softer.

Soon the sound of crunching leaves accompanied the fizzling sparks. She did not open her eyes, choosing instead to take note of how they interacted with the ripples still stirring around her. It was a very pleasant sensation, similar to how one felt being wrapped in warm blankets on a cold wintery night.

The footsteps in the leaves came to a stop and the sparks smoothed out into ripples of their own. They lapped up against the ones she could already feel. The two moved against one another, quickly finding a harmony, moving with each other.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, focussing on nothing but the air around her. But nothing could last forever.

'You should see what you're doing right now.'

She didn't frown at the interruption, on the contrary, the awe lacing the comment had her smiling.

'Tell me.'

'It's almost as beautiful as you are.'

Her smile faltered. Slowly, she loosened her grip on the ripples. She stopped moulding them, pushing them, she let them settle and felt them lay to rest in the open air. Opening her eyes and looking around, she noticed how the flowers, the leaves, the grass, even the air itself, seemed to gleam, luminescent in the sunlight. With every passing second, the gleam began to recede, becoming steadily duller. The shadows darkened and spread and –

Lyra's breath caught.

 _Regulus?_

What was he doing out here? No one knew about this place, no one but her and Remus. How did he find her? Maybe he wanted to talk, finally.

She stood up and took a step towards where he stood, next to the trunk of a tree, no more than ten metres from her. She couldn't believe it, she'd been wanting to talk to him for weeks now.

And then he was gone. Just like that. And she could do nothing but stand and stare at the empty space.

'Lyra?'

She could still feel the ripples, but now they were more like a soft breeze brushing against her skin. She loosened the breath she'd been holding and turned to Remus, trying her best to smile. Thankfully, he returned it and closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around her.

'What did you tell the boys?' She asked, leaning back to look at him.

He smirked, leaning into her, bringing his mouth to her ear. 'Library.'

She tried to smirk back, tried to smile at least, but instead she stared at the place she'd seen Regulus. She didn't notice Remus press kisses to her jaw, moving slowly towards the side of her neck. The sounds around her slipped away, leaving nothing but a gnawing silence.

Remus moved, his hand slid across her stomach and the silence was broken.

Instinctively, Lyra stepped away, wincing at the scraping pain flaring from her stomach. Remus stumbled with her, arms held out as if expecting her to collapse.

'What? What's wrong?'

She hastily turned away from him, screwing her face up, trying to ride out the pain all the while making sure her breathing was under control, knowing that he'd be able to hear it. From behind her Remus took another step closer.

'It's nothing.' She tried not to snap, cursing herself for not really succeeding. Remus was smart enough to pick up on the fact that something was definitely wrong and that she was doing an absolutely lousy job at trying to hide it.

The pain began to subside and Lyra was able to unclench her fists, flexing her aching fingers.

'I don't think you and Sirius can get away with that anymore, y'know. Pretending everything's fine when we all know that it's not.'

'You can't fix everything,' her voice was so soft, she wasn't sure if she'd wanted him to hear or not, but of course, he did.

'I can't hope to try if I don't know what needs my help.'

'You want to help me? Well guess what, Remus, you can't! No one can help me, hell I'm having trouble even helping myself! I'm being stalked by a bird, being interrogated by an intrusive headmaster, I'm playing cat and mouse with my own brother and my parents tried to kill me, and almost succeeded! And to top it all off I have a present from them that just won't go away!' The words scorched her throat, scratched at her tongue and pounded at her teeth and her head, trying to break free and unleash themselves onto Remus, onto the forest, the birds, anyone and anything that would listen. Gritting her teeth, she swallowed them back, sucking at her teeth and pursing her lips. She wouldn't whine like some ungrateful child. Things in life happened and you had to deal with them, or let them win. She wouldn't allow that. So she stayed quiet, staring with cold eyes at a tree in front of her.

'You may not think that I'll be able to help you, Lyra.' Later, she'd grin to herself at how well Remus could read her . . . Later, but not now. 'But, you'll never know if you don't try.'

'And if I did? What would be the point in trying?' _Other than to make you as miserable as me?_

'I'm sorry, I didn't realise you're a seer now, as well,' Remus ground out.

She turned and glared at him, arms held stiffly by her sides. 'As well as what?'

Remus rolled his eyes, a muscle in his jaw feathering. 'I'm not getting into this with you again, Lyra. I'm trying to help you!'

The words were too strong for her this time. 'Help with what!? What do you think's going on here, that I need your help with? It may have escaped your notice, but I am more than capable of taking care of myself.' She gestured to the surrounding forest, reminding him of what he'd just caught her doing. 'But please if you think there's a problem that I'm not already aware of than feel free to share it!'

For a moment Remus looked stunned and for a smaller moment, he looked something akin to scared – she'd recall his face in that instant later and be overcome with guilt and her own fear. A beat passed and his features morphed into annoyance and defeat. His neck relented and his head swung forward, his sandy hair falling in front of his closed eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, they were scattered with the faintest flecks of amber. He looked at her, simply, anger and frustration shadowing his face.

Lyra merely stood there, unmoving, breathing in short, soft huffs.

Remus turned to walk away, stopping after a few steps and half turned towards her. 'Happy anniversary.' He turned again and continued walking. Then he was gone.

She'd never truly know how long she stood there for, staring at the point he'd been standing with his head hung. It could have been a minute, an hour or half the day . . . she didn't notice anything until she finally blinked.

That simple movement, a simple flicker of the eyelids, was enough to pull her from the stupor she was in. She blinked again . . . Her hands were sore. She blinked again . . . Her head hurt. A blunt, ache that throbbed behind her eyes. She blinked again . . . She'd been yelling, she'd been angry. Another blink . . . Remus was here. Had she been yelling at him? She looked around the forest, as if an explanation would present itself, but everything was as it had been, the birds were chirping, the beasts from deep within the trees were once again calling out to one another.

And then she saw it, through the tree trunks, small and long, and dark, like a shadow . . . or a silhouette. One more blink and she was off after it.

The closer she moved to it, the further it became, like it was mirroring her actions, keeping pace with her in the opposite direction. Yet she kept going, because she knew who she was following. It was the same person she'd been following for weeks now. The same person she'd been having those awful dreams about. She _had_ to talk to him, she had to understand why it seemed _he_ didn't want to talk to _her._

She felt her excitement, the anticipation, grow when she noticed that she was closing the distance between them. His figure was becoming more and more defined through the trees. She didn't notice that she was softly whispering his name with every footfall, 'Regulus? Regulus. Regulus.'

And just as quickly as he'd appeared, he vanished. And once more she was left, standing frozen wondering where he'd gone. A bird called from a branch near her head and she jumped. It called out again and this time she realised, with a jolt of panic, that it was an owl.

As soon as she noticed this, she began to notice everything else as well. She noticed how her breath fogged in front of her. She noticed how cold her face felt, the tip of her nose a red blur in the bottom of her vision. She noticed how light still shone down through the canopy, but that it was no longer coming from the sun. Moonlight now weaved through the trees, washing everything in a pale, matted grey, making it seem like the world around her was made of stone.

Giving the forest one last desperate, sweeping look, she relented. Guessing at the direction of the castle, she turned and started to trudge towards it.

She kept urging herself to seek him out somewhere he couldn't escape. Confronting him at dinner or breakfast occurred to her numerous times a day. But it was clear that he wanted to talk to her privately, without anyone else knowing, or watching, or listening.

Maybe he still didn't know what he wanted to say. She wasn't sure she knew yet either. Perhaps he couldn't, there was something preventing him from taking that extra step towards her. This scared her more than anything. The thought that he might be in trouble, and that _she_ might be the cause of that trouble, it bit at her lungs.

Small, flickering lights were now splitting through the trees. They illuminated patches of the castle's stone walls and Lyra sighed, letting relief pour through her. Not knowing what time it was, she just hoped that she hadn't missed out on dinner, she was starving.

A noise made all thoughts of Shepard's Pie fleeing her mind. She stopped walking, praying that whatever had made that twig snap was just an animal passing by.

But then that would mean she had luck on her side.

'Hello Lyra.'

Her heart stumbled as every muscle in her body tensed.

'I thought it might be high time to talk about that dinner, don't you?'


	14. Chapter 14

**So this turned out to be a little longer than I expected, I hope it's not too long. We're getting so close to new material I can taste it!**

 **Tell me what you think!**

* * *

' _You've no idea where he is?' Remus asked, his voice hoarse now that he was talking instead of yelling._

' _I have no idea where Sirius –' Lyra staggered, dazedly grabbing hold of a stool before she had a chance to fall. Her free hand flew to her side, as if she'd just been dealt a blow._

 _As she staggered back, Remus moved forward. 'What's wrong? What is it?'_

 _Lyra winced. 'Sirius,' she breathed._

 _Remus' stomach dropped. He knew what was happening – and what was about to happen._

 _Lyra looked up, wide eyes full of horror and pain. Suddenly she stepped toward him, placed both hands behind his neck and pulled him to her. The kiss was much too short, much too deep, much too desperate._

' _I have to go.'_

 _He didn't have a chance to respond. By the time he opened his eyes, she was gone._

* * *

She didn't turn around.

Off in the distance, the many windows of the castle glinted through the tree line. Dinner would have started by now, given how dark it was, the sun's light a fading glow somewhere in the west.

For a fleeting moment she wondered if anyone had noticed her absence from the Gryffindor table. Chances were they hadn't. She'd been known to spend a meal or two down in the kitchens every now and then. House elves were far less obtrusive than even the most well-meaning student, it was far quieter and had her far less on edge. If the others did eventually feel her absence, it probably wouldn't be until well after dinner had finished . . . Too late.

As a spot of light hit her periphery, she had to fight the instinct to alert Sirius. Best not to be hasty. If there was even the slightest chance she could get out of this – whatever this was – quietly than she'd take it. Alerting Sirius would only cause panic, and end in injury, most likely on his own part.

Lyra turned toward the source of the light. It shone from the tip of a wand, a wand being held by a tall, blonde headed wizard. He was smirking widely at her. When her eyes found his, the smirk grew. It was tight around the edges, struggling to contain his glee no doubt at having found her in such a vulnerable position.

A thought snagged at the corner of her mind . . . His having found her when she was so far from everyone else was a mighty big coincidence.

'How did you get inside the grounds?'

His grin seemed to flicker for a moment, clearly disappointed at finding only mere unconcerned curiosity rather than fear in her voice, like he'd no doubt expected there to be. It didn't take him long to recover, however and soon that cold, pompous smirk had resurfaced.

'Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?' He purred across the clearing to her.

She had to work hard to keep her face neutral instead of rolling her eyes.

'Why are you here, Rosier?'

'I told you – I thought we should finish the conversation that was started at dinner all those weeks ago.'

A sinking feeling descended with a rush deep in her gut. Despite this she stood firm. Never show hesitation – one of the few useful things her father ever taught her.

'That conversation,' she said, watching Rosier as he started to slowly circle her, 'was between your mother and my own. Perhaps they should be the ones to finish it.'

Rosier chuckled darkly. He was standing somewhere behind her now, the faint glow of his wand tip just reaching the space in front of her. No doubt he was hoping to scare her, maybe he was expecting her to wheel around, following his movements with nervous eyes and trembling hands.

He'd have to put on a better show than this before she'd have reason to be cautious, let alone scared. Some fool with a wand just wasn't enough, or fools, if what she was sensing was any indication.

But Rosier was as confident as could be. 'Well, you know how old women can be. They'd have us listening to them babble on all night long and yet we'd still learn nothing.'

'If you'd like to learn something,' Lyra raised an arm towards Hogwarts' twinkling windows, 'I'm sure Dumbledore would be happy to accommodate you . . . Something might actually sink in this time round.' The words were out in the open before she had a chance to stop them. She winced, and it had nothing to do with the wand now digging into her back.

'And people think you two aren't alike,' Rosier sneered sharply in her ear.

 _Clearly the people who say such things are idiots._ Thankfully, she managed to bite these words back before they could escape. The damage, however, was done. As Rosier stepped around to face her, his smug façade had all but dropped completely, making way for the frustration she'd felt rising quickly ever since he'd approached her.

'And I have no doubt that I'm about to learn all that I want and more, right here.'

Glaring at him, Lyra did a quick assessment. Rosier was normally harmless, his confident bravado thankfully didn't transfer into any actual talent. But she'd never seen him truly lose control, he could prove to be a problem if he was unstable. Then there were those who hadn't revealed themselves yet, those waiting in the trees in case they were needed. She'd guess there were about two or three – so at least he wasn't a completely unprepared fool. Though, from the power they were emitting, they didn't pose too much of a threat.

Just when she was thinking how easy it would be to disable them, Lyra felt an uncomfortable twisting in her gut, followed by a sudden, brief wave of dizziness. Gritting her teeth she willed herself not to move as she blinked herself back to reality, racking her brain for some explanation . . . it was hunger, she was famished, she could feel how light her stomach was, it was the same lightness now polluting her head . . . but it was unlike any hunger she'd ever experienced. Her heart was racing and she could feel the beads of sweat begin to form in her hair line.

Focussing on the situation at hand, she pushed her discomfort aside. She was surrounded, but she was clearly in no position to fight off numerous offenders, not in her current condition. No, she'd wait for Rosier to make matters worse before she chose to react.

That didn't necessarily mean that she had to humour him in the interim, however.

'And what is it that you're requiring an education in?'

'Come now, Lyra,' his humour was back. Maybe he was more unstable than she'd thought. 'Let's not play games here. We're friends after all,' he cocked his head to the side, 'aren't we?'

She didn't answer, focussing on the way his jaw tensed instead.

'I want to know if the rumours are true.'

'What rumours?' She really was getting sick of that stupid word.

Rosier ground his teeth. 'Don't play games with me, Lyra.'

'The world is ripe with speculation and gossip. I have no idea if the supposed facts surrounding any of the rumours you may have heard are true or not.'

Rosier huffed a frustrated, humourless smirk. 'Huh. A typical pureblood – provide an answer but give nothing away.'

She stifled her irritation at the comparison. 'And even if I did know anything, why would I tell you?'

'Because you're a smart girl, Lyra.'

Yes, she was, which is why she didn't so much as blink when he slowly closed the space between them. She felt somewhere between wanting to grin and wanting to vomit. Before her was a child, desperately trying to fit in with the grownups. But what children lack in tact, they more than make up for in volatility. Rosier stopped his advance when he'd closed the gap to within a metre, looking at her with an amount of softness that had her more on edge than she had been so far.

'It must have been so hard for you, being snatched so violently from your home – from those who care the most about you.' He reached out and took a strand of hair that had worked its way loose whilst she'd been running through the trees. It slid smoothly through his fingers. She didn't move one tense muscle. 'And then to wake up in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people. But you're here now, among friends, if only you choose to acknowledge them. You've always been the victim of his brashness. No one blames you for it.' He let the strand of hair drop.

Lyra blinked. Only half her focus was being put into listening to Rosier's speeches. The rest was currently being employed to fight off the sudden waves of nausea that were rolling through her head, making its way like white rapids down her spine and into her stomach. Grinding her feet into the dirt, it took her a moment to realise that no one was talking, and another moment after that to process what had been said.

She straightened her fingers as they started to prickle hotly.

'And seeing as we're friends, how about answering those questions?' He had obviously taken Lyra's silence as some sort of agreement. His blind confidence in his ability to control the current situation was really starting to become annoying.

'I don't know anything.' She was tempting luck, she knew it, but the need to get back to the castle was occupying the majority of her mind, leaving little room for strategies and the like.

'I know what it is I saw that night. That wasn't merely an outburst of underage magic. It was controlled. It was practiced. And I got the impression that it wasn't altogether friendly.'

Lyra didn't say anything. Instead, she remembered Sirius' words about the incident. _'You have nothing to be sorry about. You were brilliant!'_ Well they might both be cursing her supposed brilliance after tonight.

'Ever since then I can't help but wonder if the rumours are true. Wouldn't that be an interesting development.' Rosier snapped.

'What rumours?'

For the smallest second, Rosier looked like he'd attack her. He leant forwards slightly, almost as if a strong gust of wind had pulled him that way, before rolling back onto his heels, perhaps thinking better of it. Lyra's fingers twitched in response. Thankfully the action went unnoticed by Rosier and, given that no one had jumped suddenly from the trees, their hidden audience hadn't noticed either.

'My mother hasn't come this far in life by making unfounded accusations.' Rosier's face was quickly turning an ugly shade of red – made darker by the dim light of wand and moon. 'Something had her mighty intrigued that night. And I do not doubt that those feelings would be limited to the occupant of the seat in which she sat at your dining table. Surely you must see her same expression on all who pass through your family's door. I am not asking for much, Lyra. I have always been honest with you, have I not? My mother made mention of a rumour that night around the dining table. A rumour about a wealthy witch and some manner of potion, do you recall the one? All I wish to know is if you are aware of it's authenticity.'

 _Hesitation is weakness._ 'I don't –'

'Stop toying with me!' Rosier shouted and Lyra really _did_ flinch this time. 'I know you've heard them! You've had to. _I_ can't escape them and they're not even about me!'

Lyra took half a step away from him. Rosier was raving. Spit flew from his mouth and he'd begun to pace with manic speed before her. The grip on his wand had tightened to white-knuckled intensity and, even in the dark, she could tell his face had deepened another dangerous shade of red.

Suddenly the humour had been sucked from the air like venom from a wound.

She watched him closely, listening for any sort of movement from the trees, trying to predict what would happen next – which, at the moment, was almost an impossible task.

Rosier turned to her, slightly breathless, but his eyes were softer – almost pleading. 'I just need you to tell me yes or no. Are the rumours true?'

Lyra tried to think, tried to think of anything she could do or say to stall her answer, to buy her just a little more time. But she couldn't tell him anything. To deny it would be a lie he surely wouldn't believe, and if she was truly ignorant the moment to admit it had long since passed. Admitting that she knew anything about the rumours was simply not an option. But she couldn't risk provoking him further either. Thankfully a short, dagger-sharp laugh sliced the air. She was horrified, however, to see that it was coming from Rosier in another absurd shifts of moods.

'I remember the stories my father used to tell me,' his head was hung slightly, he seemed to be talking more to himself than to her, 'of the extremes some people will go to in the name of – well of their name.' His eyes found hers once more. 'Imagine it. Imagine scouring through the depths of the worst dregs that society has to offer. And thinking that it will end up working in your favour.' He chuckled at the joke Lyra didn't get. 'Unfortunately, the world rarely works so cleanly. Wouldn't you agree?' He sniggered again when Lyra's head suddenly snapped to a nearby cluster of tress, a branch wobbling in the still night air. 'Sirius won't snatch you away this time, Lyra.'

She didn't look away. Rosier followed her line of sight and spotted the branch, it's leaves still rustling back into stillness.

'Ah,' he grinned coldly. 'How remiss of me. I have yet to introduce you to some friends of my own. Hopefully the prospect of having new ears to entertain will make you a bit more willing to share, perhaps? Merlin knows that that would be more than enough incentive for your mother.'

Lyra had stopped listening to him. She'd stopped grinding her heels into the earth, had stopped tensing her muscles instinctively. Her limbs slackened, her teeth tensing in their place. The itching in her hands swelling into great pulses of heat as Fenrir Greyback stepped out of the trees.

'You!'

All thought of control vanished like fog in a hot sun. She ran at Greyback, the sound of her rushing blood pushing her forward.

She was mere metres from the werewolf, arms starting to rise, when a jet of red light shot from the trees to her left and hit Greyback squarely in the chest, knocking him unconscious to the forest floor. Another jet of light shot from the trees, this time striking Rosier in the temple, he too fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Lyra flung around, ready to take on whoever it was who'd thought they could stop her.

She wasn't quick enough.

The last thing she saw before she fell into blackness was a burst of red and a pair of great glowing, green eyes.

XXXXXXXXX

'I found her while I was walking back from Hogsmeade.' Sirius ignored the look of deep confusion and worry being sent his way. Let James think what he wanted, it wasn't him that Sirius was trying to fool at the moment.

Dumbledore held his gaze, one long, steady, unwavering, searching look. He was obviously trying to decide just how much truth was in that answer.

It was a good enough lie, not one of his best, but it was plausible enough. The clearing he'd found her in was near enough to a path that wound from one of the less frequented parts of Hogsmeade to the dark forest that boarded Hogwarts' grounds. It was possible that Sirius had been retuning from Hogsmeade – well after everyone else had already returned to the castle – and had heard, well, whatever had been going on.

Thankfully, for the sake of this lie at least, Sirius had not been at dinner either. Dumbledore, nor any other teachers had seen him since he'd left for Hogsmeade earlier in the day.

Not feeling well, Sirius had convinced James and the others to have dinner in the kitchens. It was whilst they were eating and being entertained by the hustle and bustle of the numerous hard-working house elves, that Sirius had felt it. A wave of intense, burning hatred, anger and rage. It was so overwhelming that he'd thought he was going to vomit because of it. But the anger wasn't his. It was like being pushed into a deep pool of someone else's mind, of someone else's emotions. And he knew whose it was, the only person's it could be.

He'd rushed from the kitchens and held onto that rage, letting it guide him like a compass out of the castle and into the forest. He didn't stop running until he reached a clearing. He didn't even stop to consider whether it was empty or not. He'd rushed straight to her unconscious side, picking her up, ignoring the others, and taking her straight to the infirmary. It was the last place she'd want to wake up in, but in that moment, and even now in this one, he knew he had bigger things to concern himself with. And so did she, apparently.

The horror of what had happened didn't set in until after he'd placed her down on the hospital bed a flustered Madam Pomfrey ushered him to. The time he'd spent rushing through the castle and onto the grounds had been like the momentary shock one got between stubbing your toe and waiting for the pain of it to arrive.

The shaking was the first thing to start. From the tips of his fingers, it rattled straight through to his spine, travelling along it, down to the soles of his feet and up to the roots of his hair. He thought that sitting might calm it but it just made him restless, agitated. He paced before the foot of her bed, rubbing his temples with the palm of his hands whilst Pomfrey checked Lyra. The others were still as stone and almost as pale as Lyra was.

The scene was actually eerily similar to that of a few weeks ago, when they had found Sirius and Lyra broken and bloodied, with the exception of Peter, who was looking the palest of them all. He glanced around the room, eyes bouncing from Madam Pomfrey to the door, to Sirius. He seemed to be avoiding Lyra completely. But then Peter had always tried not to focus on pain but rather on a way out, a solution. No doubt he was waiting for Dumbeldore's arrival.

Remus sat on the bed next to Lyra's watching, unblinking, as she lay motionless. He absentmindedly wrung his hands, the skin tight and glistening with sweat. The light from a nearby candle flickered in his eyes, illuminating them, illuminating their hardness, the light giving them a soft amber glow.

James looked between the twins, suspicion and worry battling for dominance. Worry clearly won his eyes, it shone through undiluted, pinching a crease in his forehead. The suspicion flared every so often, deepening that crease, narrowing his eyes as he remembered the robotic way Sirius had rushed to his sister's side. Sirius could see it deepen even further as James no doubt thought how strange it was that Sirius even knew where to look in the first place. No one had seen Lyra all day. She'd not been seen in the Common Room that morning, nor had they come across her in Hogsmeade. So how did Sirius know where she'd be? And how did he know to go to her at the moment he did?

All good questions, answers to which Sirius wasn't about to divulge to Dumbledore however, no matter how long he tried to stare him into submission.

Thankfully, Dumbledore shifted in his seat after a moment, the battle was over, at least for now.

'And you cannot think of a reason she may have been in the grounds at this time of night?'

Sirius kept his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's. 'No.'

The tension thickened and hung in the air for a moment before it fizzled out with Dumbledore's short sigh. He leant back in Madam Pomfrey's office chair, looking marginally more relaxed but more serious all at the same time.

'And can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your sister?'

 _How long have you got?_ The number of people on _that_ particular list had always been fairly long. Over the past few months it had no doubt doubled to a worrying size. He imagined that there would be more than one member of the Slytherin house fighting for the top spot of who wanted to hurt the traitorous Black twins more – a fact he was on the way to make clear to the Headmaster when the office door swung open.

'Professor.' It was Peter, looking just as panicked as he had been when Dumbledore strode into the Hospital wing and asked to see Sirius, James and Remus in private. That had only been a few minutes ago.

Peter rushed from the room just as quickly as he'd appeared and it was clear that he meant for Dumbledore to follow. Sirius shared a quick, nervous look with the others before falling into step behind Dumbledore.

As soon as they crossed the threshold into the Hospital Wing, he knew something was wrong.

He brushed past Dumbledore and ran straight to Lyra's side. She hadn't moved. Taking the same chair he'd been sitting in before he was called away, he took her hand. Her fingers were the same colour as the rest of her skin. From what he could tell, her condition hadn't changed at all. So what had the matron so worried?

Pomfrey was focussed fully on Lyra. She waved her wand in complicated patterns, frowning deeper after everyone. It was only when Dumbledore stood beside her that she looked at him. And even then, all she seemed to have time for was a furtive glance of acknowledgement before frowning down at Lyra again.

'What seems to be the problem, Poppy?' Dumbledore asked, calmly as ever.

Without looking at him, Pomfrey's voice was forcefully clinical. 'Something was preventing me from performing any diagnostic charms, but then I discovered this,' she leant over and lifted Lyra's shirt, exposing her torso.

Sirius stopped talking. Horror swept his mind like a wind storm in a desert. His heart dropped into his stomach, his stomach dropped to his feet.

Carved across the length of his sister's stomach, the three scars, gifted to her by their father, stared hauntingly up at him. Their menacing glower was made so much more sickening by the festering black tendrils creeping from the wound like ivy on a dying wall. Even the skin they hadn't reached yet seemed to be polluted by them nonetheless, it had turned grey, patches of purple and shades of green littering the otherwise smooth expanse.

Sirius didn't notice anything but those three scars. He didn't notice that way Remus stopped walking, mid-stride, his mouth hanging open, his eyes flashing without the aid of any candlelight. He didn't notice James, looking more horrified than anyone had ever seen him., or Peter who actually gave a tiny whimper. He didn't see Dumbledore frown for the first time, or the way Madam Pomfrey grimace.

He only barely heard her when she gave a small cough. 'These wounds are fairly old from what I can gather. Dorea Potter mentioned it in her report.' Pomfrey looked to Dumbledore and didn't look away. 'I don't think she was attacked, Professor.'

XXX

'Padfoot, come on.'

Sirius wouldn't move. He hadn't moved a muscle for going on two hours. Madam Pomfrey had retreated to her office so she could consult with her books no doubt and try to find a cure for Lyra. Dumbledore had left the Hospital Wing as well, he said he was going to enlist Professor Antone's expertise. That thought alone made James queasy. Their headmaster, the most powerful wizard of their time, was going to enlist the help of their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, because dark magic had been used against his friends.

Whenever he thought about it, James chest filled with a cloud of hot, dense anger. He should've known. He should've seen the signs. What kind of friend was he if he didn't know when he was needed? Well no more, from here on out he was going to be even more observant. If they had it their way, both Sirius and Lyra would spend the rest of their lives avoiding the entire topic of their former home lives. But clearly that wasn't working out for them too well.

James looked back to Sirius, his eyes had gone blank, his hands were still wrapped around one of Lyra's. But even though his jaw was clenched unbelievably tight, he had become parchment-pale, his shoulders had hunched further and further until his elbows were resting on the side of her bed.

James sighed, placing a hand on Sirius' shoulder. 'Padfoot, you have to move sometime or else you'll be stuck like that.'

From somewhere behind him, he heard Wormtail groan. Yes, it wasn't some of James' finest work but at least he was trying . . . he had to try.

But the world around him may as well not have even existed to Sirius, he remained silent and completely still. James sighed and trudged over the next bed where Peter and Remus sat. Peter had taken to lying stretched out on the bed, staring up at the high ceiling. Every now and then he'd look over to Remus who had taken up the seat next to him.

Remus hadn't moved much either, but he'd at least taken to grunting in acknowledgement to anyone who tried talking to him. Remus hadn't said anything for . . . well, now that he thought about it, James didn't recall Remus having said anything since they'd found Lyra in the forest.

'It's no use,' James huffed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Peter cast a glance over to the next bed. 'He's been sitting there for a good while now, he's actually looking kind of faint.'

'Should we try and force feed him some pepper up potion?' James looked across the room to where Madam Pomfrey was now rifling through her stock of various potions.

Peter shook his head. 'Do we really want him to be . . . y'know, _more_ energised right now? Maybe it's best if we just leave him be.'

James couldn't help but agree. 'Well we should bring up some food for him at least.' He realised that, even if they managed to bring the entire contents of the Great Hall into the Hospital Wing, Sirius probably wouldn't bat an eyelash. But James had to do something, standing around like this was driving him insane.

'C'mon, Moony, let's go get something to eat.' It was like moving a puppet. Remus allowed James to steer him from the room. 'Wormtail, stay here, yeah? Keep an eye on him.'

Peter nodded and returned to studying the ceiling.

It wasn't until they'd gone down two flights of stairs before one of them said anything, and it surprised them both when it was Remus.

'I know why she was out there.'

James didn't look at him. Remus was a person of patience. Whatever it was he had to say, he'd get to it eventually. It was best not to rush these things.

They turned another corridor, one that sent them very close to the library. The corridor was bustling and they had to weave through the crowd, looking fixedly ahead. They'd reached halfway down the corridor before Remus answered the question that James had yet to ask.

'She was there to meet me.'

'Huh. Special occasion?'

'Anniversary,' Remus said shortly, neither of them used to discussing the nature of Remus and Lyra's relationship.

To avoid any further discomfort, James merely nodded, quickly making his way down the stairs into the fourth-floor corridor. It was considerably quieter down here, though the buzz of activity from somewhere in front of them was growing louder with each passing step. The sudden lull in atmosphere soon had James pushing to fill the silence.

'You didn't tell Sirius.' Even he didn't know if it was a question or not.

Remus snorted. 'Would you?'

James winced slightly. Remus had a point. Whilst Sirius knew that his sister was seeing one of his best friends, there'd been an unspoken agreement between all who knew about it that it was to be kept as discrete as possible. Therefore, Remus and Lyra acted just as two friends would whilst in public, and everyone else had learnt to play along. And under normal circumstances Sirius would have accepted that an anniversary was a valid reason to break this unspoken pact, but these weren't normal circumstances.

Remus absentmindedly scratched a scar on his cheek. 'We were going to spend the day together, but . . .' he tapered off, but he didn't need to explain. Remus had caught up with them just after midday and he had _not_ been in a good mood. They didn't ask him about it, no matter how much Sirius looked like he wanted to.

'Hang on,' James grabbed Remus' arm. He didn't pay any attention to the fact that they'd stopped right in the middle of what was now a rather crowded archway. 'Then, that means you left her around lunch.'

Remus raised his eyebrows in exasperation at James stating the obvious.

'What was she doing out there for so long?'

For a moment James could see Remus' mind working it over. The initial frown as he was probably thinking to himself _well she obviously fainted after I left_. But then realisation hit, comprehension slipping onto his face, his features drooping, melting, flattening into horrifying, sickening confusion.

They both knew. Whatever had drawn Sirius to Lyra happened because she was in danger. They'd seen it before, well, only twice before, but it was enough times for them to figure out what was happening and why. The pull – whatever is was – was instantaneous. Sirius didn't find her till they were sitting down for dinner in the kitchens. Which meant Lyra was out in the forest, alone, for hours – doing what, however, was the question James really wanted to know.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Theories? Issues? The time to voice them is now :)**


	15. Chapter 15

***Updated: 12/02/2018***

 **So I noticed that there was a scene repeated in this chapter and the next. I've hopefully fixed it so, enjoy if you're re-reading it.**

* * *

 _He didn't know when it'd happened . . . or where . . . or how he could have let it get so out of control. But now it was over, it was gone, and he didn't realise how much he had relied on it until he found himself craving it, only to have the weight of reality crashing into his chest once more . . ._

* * *

It was the loud bang of wood against stone that made him jump awake. The muscles in his neck – sore and stiff – groaned in protest as he turned to see who had entered.

He'd long since surrendered himself to a world of blurs and shadows as his vision had long since become unfocussed. It was easier this way. He wasn't thinking, wasn't seeing, the only thing to listen to was Pomfrey rummaging through cabinets now that Peter wasn't there trying not to look awkward, or provide any words of comfort or support

It was still dark, although it wasn't as dense, not as imposing as it tends to be before the moon has reached it's peak. It's light shone through the long windows, mixing with the still burning candles, helping to illuminate the newcomer.

Sirius wouldn't have been surprised if it were James, coming to drag him physically back to bed. He even would have expected Dumbledore to show his face again. And Sirius didn't think he had the will power or strength left in him to lie to his headmaster a second time.

Possibly the only person he hadn't been expecting to see was Professor Antone advancing towards him, a scowl on his young face. And it hadn't been his usual contemplative sort of scowl either.

Sirius steeled himself to endure the fierce look.

'Ah, Professor.' Madam Pomfrey swept over to him, her hands full of various potion bottles, and met him in the middle of the room.

'The Headmaster told me that you required my assistance,' Antone recited, not even looking at Pomfrey as he scanned the beds.

He stilled when he came to the bed Lyra lay in, either not noticing, or not caring about the glare Sirius was giving him.

The Hospital Wing had finally cleared out. The place was just about to surrender to silence, Sirius was starting to hope that he and Lyra might finally get a chance to truly rest . . .

Antone started towards the bed, leaving Madam Pomfrey to scramble after him. She quickly made her way to Lyra's bedside table and freed her hands. Antone did nothing but stand at the foot of the bed, looking down impassively at his student.

With a simple nod of the head, he gave Pomfrey the permission she apparently needed to move.

Sirius felt a hand touch his shoulder, and for some reason, he let go of Lyra's hand immediately. He would have asked them what the hell was going on if he hadn't been so exhausted. So, instead, he just sat back in his chair and looked from Pomfrey, who was now folding down the bedding around Lyra, to Antone, who watched silently on, jaw clenched, fists pumping at his sides.

When Pomfrey's hand gripped the bottom of Lyra's hospital shirt, about to peel it back and reveal the awful wound, Sirius looked to the Professor.

Antone's scowl grew darker, his lips clenched tight with white fury and Sirius knew . . . he could picture so clearly, with such gut-churning clarity, what the Professor was now looking at.

Antone's voice – normally cool and steady – came out slightly strangled as he said, 'These aren't fresh.'

Sirius went to respond, what he would have said, he'd never know because Madam Pomfrey had already started.

'No,' she said, moving the bottles she'd just put down to get to the parchment underneath it. 'Here's the report provided to us by ex-Healer Potter. She was the first person to discover and treat Miss Black's injuries.'

Antone took it and tore his eyes away from Lyra long enough to skim through the report. He paused and finally looked to Sirius, his frosted blue eyes piercing into Sirius' own.

'Your father. He did this?'

There was no warmth, no sympathy, no compassion, not even curiosity to this question. If not for the fact that it was being pushed through clenched teeth, Sirius would almost be tempted to say that it was purely factual.

He nodded and Antone's eyes narrowed dangerously. If possible, the white skin around his lips – tight from their being pursed so strongly – grew whiter still. It was a surprise that a growl didn't escape him.

Sirius' glare became a frowning one. There seemed to be something personal in Antone's reaction. As if it was _his_ sister they were talking about. But why would he take Sirius' father's attack on Lyra so personally?

Merlin, he was tired.

Antone's anger held a moment longer as he finished the report before he released a long sigh through his nose, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He glanced one last time at the parchment in his hands before looking at Madam Pomfrey.

'Is there anything else?'

Pomfrey nodded and pulled Lyra's shirt and bedding back over her before ushering Antone into her office.

As soon as they were out of sight, Sirius reached out and took Lyra's hand again. Let Antone and Pomfrey do their research, look through their reports. They couldn't help her. He could though. Sirius was the only one who could help her, he was the only help she needed.

XXXXXX

James and Remus hadn't said anything through three flights of the moving staircase. Now they were nearing the Great Hall – still bustling with stragglers from dinner – both boys were solely consumed with their own thoughts. They were each sifting through any bit of information that could provide a clue as to what had happened. It had been established that Lyra had gone to the edge of the forest to meet with Remus. But what she did for the hours between his leaving and Sirius being pulled to her side was still unclear. More pressing than that, was what had happened to leave Lyra unconscious in the first place.

Yes, her injury was horrific, but Lyra was the strongest person either of them knew. It wasn't like her to let something get the better of her, regardless of how infected her wounds had become. She would struggle on, not asking anyone for help, until the situation worked itself out. Out of pride, not wanting the pity of others, or just pure stubbornness, no one was quite sure.

So if it wasn't the injury . . .

Unfortunately, James' first thought went to an attack. But even that was unlikely. It was Lyra for Merlin's sake . . . He would've liked to see the duel that left her the loser. He doubted it was any of the students. None of them were near skilled enough. James looked at those leaving the Great Hall. No one looked overly smug, and there was no doubt in his mind that if any of the Slytherins had beaten Lyra in a duel, that they wouldn't be keeping it to themselves.

'Ah, James, there you are!'

James looked around, searching for the voice he hadn't heard until it called out his name. He found her immediately – it was if he was always subconsciously searching for her with how quickly he could spot her in a crowd.

Lily was striding towards him quickly, a disgruntled Marlene following a few paces behind and for a moment his fear over Lyra relented just enough for fear of the fight obviously brewing between the two girls to rise to the surface.

Lily started talking even when she was still a few meters from him.

'Now about your birthday, I have a couple of ideas.'

'He wanted it to be a surprise, Lilith, or didn't you hear?'

Lily stopped in her tracks to turn and glare at the blonde. 'As a matter of fact, I did hear, I just want to make sure it's something he'll like.'

But Marlene wasn't paying attention to her. She'd spotted the looks on the boys faces.

'What is it? What's wrong?' She said, ignoring Lily completely, who spun back around, expression suddenly filled with apprehension.

James cleared his throat, remembering why he was feeling uneasy. 'We found Lyra passed out in the forest.'

Lily's hand flew to her slack-jawed mouth, wide eyes flicking between James and Remus. Marlene's jaw clenched but she only had eyes for one person. She seemed to be inspecting Remus, assessing him thoroughly, perhaps waiting for him to do something. But he didn't, Remus just stood there, eyes flecked with amber, void of any solid emotion, the smallest of creases between his eyebrows.

'What happened?' Lily asked at the same time Marlene mumbled under her breath, 'Can't that girl stay out of trouble for longer than a week?'

'We're not sure yet.' James paused, considering whether or not to tell them about her wounds. Lily knew what had happened in the holidays, he'd told her about the wounds to Lyra's stomach. And Marlene . . . it only occurred to him now that Marlene must have heard the screams that day.

At the mention of the others, Lily looked to Remus. Stepping forwards and placing a hand on the boy's arm, she said, 'Remus, let's go for a walk, okay?'

Remus nodded numbly and let Lily steer him away from the others, away from the noise of the castle, out the Entrance Hall and into the night.

Marlene and James watched them until they were out of sight. As soon as they were, Marlene looked to James.

'How is he?'

'Not great,' James relented. He resumed his path towards the kitchen, crossing the rest of the Entrance Hall towards the stairs that would take him to the lower parts of the castle. Marlene fell into step beside him.

'I'd think not.'

'I thought some food would do him some good.'

'Or you just wanted an excuse to stretch your legs and get out of the Hospital Wing?'

James frowned. 'You almost make it sound as if I wanted to leave him by himself.'

'You know that's not what I meant. But you do tend to think through things better when you're using your legs.'

'Are you a James Potter expert now, Marls?'

Marlene snorted. 'Not my greatest aspiration in life, I can assure you.'

He couldn't help but let out a grin.

'But I do consider myself learned in the ways of your strange and faulty mind which is why I'm fairly confident that you already have a couple of theories as to what really happened to Lyra, and I know you're going to tell me what they are.'

XXXX

Remus couldn't feel anything, not his legs moving underneath him, nor the wind on his face, not even the feel of Lily's hand on his arm as they walked down the steps into the grounds.

He could hear though. He could hear the monster in his head roaring for him to take action, to chase into the depths of the forest and find whatever had hurt her. And now that he was outside, staring those trees down, he was finding it very difficult to ignore that command.

He didn't know if Lily was speaking or not, all he could hear, all he could feel was the wolf inside him, it howled up to the moon, cursing that it wasn't full enough for him to take control. It thrashed within him, like someone pounding relentlessly on a brittle door, desperate to break through.

But Remus gritted his teeth, he refused.

He couldn't feel his feet move, couldn't hear the crunch of the grass, or Lily's voice, asking where he was going and he wouldn't feel the impact of the tree's trunk on his fist for a long time after the fact.

XXXXXX

Finally, finally he'd found someplace quiet, someplace peaceful. Nothing could touch him now. And now that he was here, he never wanted to leave. He felt so relaxed, more relaxed than he'd felt in a very long time. He didn't want to leave, he couldn't leave, he wouldn't leave.

If only that thing would stop bothering him! Whatever it was it was getting annoying, it was bothering the stillness and he wanted it to stop.

It prodded at the corner of his mind . . . and was it saying something?

Sirius tried to fight it, but it was pulling him out of the calm until it's voice was crystal clear, until the world slowly blinked into focus and all he could see was blonde hair and blue eyes, staring down at him.

'C'mon,' she said, squeezing his arm.

'Where're we going?'

But she didn't answer him. He let her take his hand and let her guide him out of his seat. She dropped his hands as soon as he was standing, then she was off towards the Hospital Wing doors. For reasons unknown to him, he followed her, just like that, he didn't even look back.

His mind had gone silent. His body followed her from the room, like she was pulling on a string that had him on the other end.

She always stayed a few paces ahead of him, walking as if it were just another night, as if she was coming back from the Library, or the Great Hall, or from rejecting whatever poor sod who'd decided that this would be the week that she'd say yes to someone. She never once looked behind her to see if he was following, she just trusted that he was.

He'd never liked the castle at night. Hogwarts was supposed to be bustling. It was supposed to be chaotic and loud and full. But in the depths of the night it was just an old castle, filled with the sentient dead, empty silences and bone-deep cold from cobwebbed stone.

Normally he'd at least have the other Marauders with him to distract from these facts, but now there was just the sound of two pairs of feet, passing over the floor like mist over water.

It was only when he realised he was panting slightly, and shivering softly, that Sirius' awareness returned to him.

She'd lead him to the Astronomy tower – the highest point in the castle. The light from the nearly full moon washed through the air so that Sirius could see clearly without the aid of a wand tip.

Marlene sat looking out at the grounds, her legs dangling over the side, her arms resting on the railing, a lit cigarette resting comfortably between two fingers.

He didn't say anything as he moved to sit next to her, neither did she when she held out the packet. Neither of them looked at the other as he took a cigarette and lit it with the tip of his wand, they simply stared out at the dozing lake and dark shapes of the tree tops.

For the longest time, they just sat there. And for what was most probably the first time, the silence they shared was one of complete calm, one of solemn understanding.

But some things never change.

'She'll be alright.'

Sirius barely even flinched as she disrupted the silence once again.

'I heard Antone and Pomfrey talking. He said he'd be able to . . . to cure her.'

Sirius shook his head. 'It's not that.'

Marlene turned to look at him, but she didn't say anything, didn't ask, didn't prompt, just waited.

'You're pureblood, aren't you, McKinnon?' From her raised eyebrow, it was clear that this wasn't what she'd been expecting. 'You probably heard about us even before you came here.'

Marlene brought her cigarette in for another drag, flicking the ashes away over the side of the tower. 'If your next question is to ask me whether or not I believe it,' she paused, frowning slightly, watching the smoke curl in front of her, 'I haven't decided yet.'

Sirius huffed a puff of air through his nose. It might have passed as a smile or a smirk even, had his mouth moved even a little. Typical Marlene McKinnon . . . her answers were as enigmatic as she was.

He still hadn't looked at her, but she didn't need him to. It was like she knew what he was thinking just by watching him stare into the darkness.

'You think whatever happened tonight has something to do with it?'

Sirius responded only by lifting his own cigarette to his lips.

'What _do_ you think happened tonight?'

'I don't know.' There was no small amount of frustration in his voice.

Neither of them spoke for a time, they just watched the shadows from the waning clouds float across the grounds, the ripples that were still visible softly crossing the expanse of the lake, the lights glinting out of the windows of Hagrid's hut.

'My mother always tried to shelter us,' Sirius said, his voice soft yet clear over the gentle breeze. 'She'd never really let us out of the house, Lyra especially. Whenever we'd go to Diagon Alley, we'd only go to where we needed. We never lingered, never talked to anyone and she would always, without fail, be holding onto Lyra's hand. Like she expected Lyra to run or something, or she was waiting for someone to just come up and take her.'

Marlene did not dare interrupt him. This could possibly be the most he'd ever said to her without provocation. Something was telling her that what she was hearing now was something that not even James had heard.

Sirius twisted, trying to find a more comfortable position or simply because he needed to do something to try and remind himself that he was at Hogwarts. Speaking about his mother – his life before he'd found himself in this school, with these people – wouldn't mean that he'd be dragged back there.

'At first, I thought that it was just because she was a girl – that my mother was trying to protect her, thinking her frail, vulnerable. It only occurred to me later, when I could understand things better, that she might have been trying to protect everyone else.'

'Lyra isn't dangerous, Sirius. Accident prone, maybe. Unlucky, definitely. Stubborn as all hell.'

For the first time since they'd left the Hospital Wing, Sirius lifted his gaze and met Marlene's.

There was everything she'd expected to see, worry, frustration, panic, a little anger, and that conspiratorial gleam that she thought impossible for him to lose. But there was something else there too . . . Fear. Fear perhaps over Lyra's current state or over their conversation, she couldn't be sure.

'Do _you_ believe it, Sirius?'

He blinked a few times, squinting into the darkness. The hand that had been raising his cigarette stilled. After a few seconds, his eyes found hers again. 'I haven't decided yet.'

Marlene was relieved to see a ghost of a smile as he repeated her words back to her. But then it slid off just as quickly as it had appeared.

For some strange reason, all she kept thinking was how much the Black twins needed a good, long holiday. Somewhere warm maybe, someplace with water. Although nothing as quiet as the lake now rippling gently in the night air, someplace with waves. She wondered if either of them had ever seen the ocean. If what Sirius had said so far, that was unlikely.

She couldn't imagine growing up in a house that felt like a prison. Couldn't imagine what would have to happen for her to flee her parents, her brothers, her home with the amount of fear she'd heard that day. It took her a while to accept that the screaming voice she'd heard had come from Sirius, the usually smirking boy she'd all but grown up with. It was an even bigger shock seeing him for the first time after the fact. She'd known by then that he was at the Potters, she'd thought she'd prepared herself for the worst of it, whatever _it_ was. But seeing him, his bruised face, his hunched shoulders in the harsh light of the Potter's kitchen . . .

But then she only ever saw him at Hogwarts. She'd only ever seen the smirks, the winks, the way he raised his eyebrows when he was challenging a teacher, or his friends, or – more often than not – her. Lyra wasn't much better. Though, unlike her twin, Lyra was a complete statue . . . If there really was something going on between her and Lupin, hopefully that meant that she knew how to thaw every once in a while.

Suddenly a noise carried on the wind, something that hadn't been there before now. Sirius had noticed too, for they'd both turned their heads, searching the grounds and the air for the source of it. Seconds later a bird came into view. As it drew nearer Marlene recognised it as Alfie, the Potter's owl. And by the way Sirius had tensed beside her, she had a feeling that it wasn't going to be her who was going to be receiving a care package.

Alfie wasn't carrying a package, however. The only thing he carried was a small letter, in his beak. He perched on the railing before Sirius and dropped the letter right into the boy's lap. Alfie leant down and nipped affectionately at Sirius' fingers, he hooted softly at Marlene before pushing off the railing and flying back off into the night.

Marlene stared at Sirius as he unfolded the letter slowly. The frown he'd been sporting grew deeper and deeper. His eyes became harder, the steel that had been slowly melting was now clicking back into place, an impenetrable wall. When his eyes had stopped flicking across the page his jaw had fully clenched, the muscle there feathering.

 _And there goes the peace._

* * *

 **I listen to music a lot and it sometimes inspires me for certain scenes. The song that inspired the tone for the Sirius/Marlene scene was The Black and White by The Band Camino. Give it a listen if you want. I will be doing this with more scenes further through the story, I'd love to know your thoughts about it and if you see the connections.**

 **Thanks as always and please leave a review!**


	16. Chapter 16

***Updated: 12/02/2018***

 **So I've removed that repeated scene from this chapter. It should (should) read alright. Please tell me if it doesn't . . .**

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Sirius had left McKinnon at the bottom of the astronomy tower stairs. She'd walked away, heading towards the Common Room, throwing a casual 'Get some sleep,' behind her as a form of goodbye. Sirius had waved her off, already making his way back to the Hospital Wing. Every so often he'd skim back over the letter, frustration quickening his steps.

Once he'd slid through the Hospital doors he wasn't quite sure what his next move should be. He stood for several minutes, using the door for support, letter clutched in his right hand, eyes fixed onto the right corner of the room. The light from the flickering candles around the room and those within Madam Pomfrey's office the only break in the moonlight gloom.

Pomfrey and Antone must still be in there, researching. Talking.

Sighing, Sirius kicked off the door and made his way to his seat. Lyra hadn't moved a muscle. Another disappointment.

Every time he hoped for an answer he only received more questions. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. The more burning the question, the harder it seemed to be to get the solution. The most burning one at the moment, despite the letter, was what the hell had happened to her? Why had she been out in the forest? She should have come back to the castle, she shouldn't have been there after dark. Didn't she know how dangerous it could be. He knew she'd call him a hypocrite if he were telling this to her, but their situations were different, she had so much more to lose. She'd always had more to lose. He only wished she could see that, understand it and not just call him an overprotective git.

Reluctantly, he raised the letter again, reading the words until they no longer made sense, until they meshed into one and became blurry, until the darkness of the night encroached further and further . . .

Turns out that Antone had helped much more than Sirius had anticipated, which only served to deepen his animosity for the man.

They'd eventually emerged from the office – their footsteps proving enough to rouse Sirius from his light sleep – Antone looking determined, Pomfrey decidedly less so, but still she didn't say anything, didn't protest when Antone asked to see the wound again and took out his wand.

The wand work seemed to go on for hours. Despite himself, Sirius couldn't help but to be transfixed by what Antone was doing. With every movement his wand made, the further the black, fetid tendrils would recede and fade from under Lyra's skin. Antone didn't say anything as he glided his wand slowly over the open still weeping wounds jutting along her stomach, the skin healing, turning from pasty, weeping yellow to a pale white.

The scars would never go away, Antone had told Sirius when it was all done and over with. When Lyra's stomach was back to it's original colour, when the open wounds were nothing but thick, raised, pale scars. Dark magic such as that was never easily repaired and the fact that it had been left unattended for so long would have only made the permanent effects increase.

Sirius could have screamed at her. If she were to wake now, even with James still sitting beside him, he wouldn't have cared. She deserved it. She needed it. She needed to know what sort of consequences went along with her pretending to be Merlin reincarnate. Because she wasn't . . . she wasn't nearly as tough as she thought she was . . . what he thought she was . . . what she may very well be . . .

A clap on the back was the only thing that could have jostled Sirius from the letter he held in his hand.

His eyes took a while to adjust as he looked across at James who'd taken the open seat next to him. He hadn't even realised that it was sunshine now streaming through the high windows. The night had passed rather quickly after Antone left. Pomfrey had looked as if she were going to try and convince Sirius not to stay but must thought better of it as she, too, retired.

Now, in the morning after, in the clam after the storm, James' unspoken words hung in the air. Sirius knew that under different circumstances, James would have berated him for missing Quidditch practice, especially as they had a match in just a couple of days . . . Under different circumstances.

But James knew why he hadn't shown, why he hadn't left the hospital wing for hours. And Sirius knew that a lecture was the last think he needed to hear. So instead of allowing the opportunity for one, he turned back to the parchment in his hands. He'd long ago stopped reading it, now simply staring at the parchment, feeling the weight of it, the deep creases that had formed from it being continually folded and unfolded.

He could feel eyes on him. James hadn't talked, yet he had said so much already. He'd always been like that Sirius supposed. James, more than anyone else he'd ever met, had the ability to cut you down or build you up with only a look. Words were secondary with them – though when used James could make his voice heard even in a crowd of screeching banshees.

Sirius was grateful for the silence he chose to give now. He hadn't talked in hours. He was sure his voice would be hoarse from disuse, from constantly swallowing the lump in his throat whenever he glanced over his letter to where she slept. Madam Pomfrey's words from earlier, just before she said goodnight, still rung in his ears. ' _She'll be alright now. The worst is over.'_

But was it? They'd been through so much together, he wasn't sure how much more they could take. And they hadn't even graduated yet. If the daily papers were to be believed, they were about to jump straight from the cauldron onto the open fire itself.

Madam Pomfrey's words rang out again and he glanced across to his slumbering sister. She was alright. She was alright. She wasn't unconscious, she was just sleeping. After she'd been healed Sirius had had to stop himself from swearing as realisation of who he now owed his sister's health to.

'You're gonna share that or should I move so I can get a better view?'

Sirius blinked. He hadn't realised he'd been staring at the parchment. With a long sigh, he passed the letter over. James took it gingerly, as if having second thoughts about whether or not he really wanted to read it. But read it he did, and as his eyes moved across the parchment, Sirius read along to, knowing it off by heart.

 _Dear Sirius,_

 _I must say it was rather a large surprise having received a letter from you. A delightful surprise but one none the less, for I cannot remember the last time we met, or indeed had any sort of correspondence for that matter. But here your letter is, in my hand, nonetheless and I suppose that's all that matters now._

 _As for your enquiry, I'm not too sure how much assistance I can offer you. My health is not what it used to be, I'm afraid, and my memory seems to be failing me more and more as the days pass._

 _I do not recall too much from those years – I had already been cast out by that point and so was not privy to the familial gossip wheel. But I did try to keep informed, you never know when these sorts of things could come in use._

 _It was said that Walburga had indeed become a little mad – a possibility I'm sure is not too much of a hard thing for you to believe, given what I have been hearing about you recently, my boy. She had apparently even started to avoid parties of any kind towards the end of it, obviously not wanting to confront the whispers of why she had not yet made any announcements of being with child yet._

 _I heard that she sought help from her most trusted, personal healers, took the latest potions and even went to visit her sister – you know, that particularly old and nasty one._

 _In the end, I suppose someone must have provided fair advice, for you, along with your sister, were born not twelve months later. And what a blessing you two turned out to be. Your mother must be beside herself with anger at the current moment. All that effort and for what?_

 _Well that's all, I'm afraid. I cannot remember anything else I may have heard on the subject, I was especially bitter at the time and did not really concern myself all that much about any of it._

 _But, alas, my house elf is becoming rather insistent that I take my daily potion – vile stuff and I swear it has no vital application whatsoever._

 _But Sirius, if you need any more help, anyone to turn to, I hope you keep me in mind._

 _Say hello to your lovely sister on my behalf._

 _All the best,_

 _Alphard._

James looked up at him when he'd reached the end of the letter.

'Well that's frustratingly unhelpful.' Was all he said as he handed the letter back.

'Mother used to take us to see this old crow when we were younger, I can hardly remember it really. She made us call her aunt but I don't think there was an actual blood relation.' Sirius had met her only once. She was an extremely old lady, tall and haughty, and if it weren't for that manic glint that shone so brightly in her eyes, she may have even been considered to be approachable.

'She used to stare at Lyra. Used to follow her, never wanting to let her out of her sight. It was as if she would have liked nothing more than to cut Lyra open to see how she worked.'

'Just Lyra? Not you?'

'Oh she couldn't have cared less about me. For whatever reason, it was always Lyra.'

'Do you think she knew?'

'I'm not sure. We never really saw her once we'd reached Hogwarts . . . but then, we never really saw anyone after that. Not that I'm complaining mind.'

'And you think that this is the _sister_ that your uncle mentions?'

'We only met her a handful of times. But she was talked about often behind closed doors and my mother even made us call her "Aunt".'

'What was her real name?'

Sirius ground his teeth. 'I don't know.' Yet another question with an unattainable answer. 'Where are the others?'

James ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. 'Remus is getting ready, Pete's keeping him company.'

'You ready?'

James gave him a levelling look. 'Are you?'

Sirius looked out the nearest window, picturing a full moon where a full moon now sat in the bright sky. 'I will be.' He'd let Lyra down, he sure as hell wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

XXXXXXXXXXX

 _It had been years since either of them had been summoned down for dinner, not since Kreacher had barged his way into a fifteen year-old Sirius' room to find posters of half-naked muggle women had been magicked to the walls. Sirius made sure that the house elf would never be able to enter his room again after that – although from the small smirk that had held throughout the following scolding, he probably wanted someone to notice. What's the point about being defiant if no one knew about it after all. Lyra declined his offer to protect her room as well. Unlike him, she didn't provoke Kreacher into reporting back to their parents._

 _Since then Sirius had never emerged at the dining table when company was present . . . It would be another six months till he was banned from dinners altogether. Lyra was appointed the same fate by proxy it seemed. There had only been one occasion where her presence was requested._

 _She'd never told Sirius what they'd said to get her to sit at that table complacently, never told anyone what they'd threatened if she didn't comply._

 _Her life had changed that night. It had been the catalyst for their plan to escape that place. She'd just turned sixteen, far too young an age for talk of betrothals. Any alliance her parents wished to make, she wanted no part of but nevertheless she'd sat there, silent with shock, as the two patriarchs talked over the details. To his credit at least Rabastan had had the decency to appear mildly concerned whenever his gaze flickered across the table to her._

 _Since then however, the twins had kept to themselves. Kreacher delivered their meals to them every evening as the others gathered around the table downstairs._

 _So when Mrs Black informed them both that they would be joining the rest of the family as they entertained the Rosier's it did nothing but induce suspicion and panic in the both of them. Emotions that tensed themselves over the dining table like a rubber band pulled taught._

 _Unfortunately, Madam Rosier prided herself on her ability to start a conversation no matter the situation._

 _'Walburga informs me that you achieved quite commendable results in your OWL examinations Regulus,' Madam Rosier said, cutting her food into tiny portions and chewing each piece delicately – like a mouse chewing rope – as she peered across the table at Regulus through the tops of her eyes. Regulus merely nodded once, looking anywhere but down the table where his siblings sat. Madam Rosier gave a tight lipped smile. 'Your housemates would do well to follow your example.'_

 _Lyra could practically hear Sirius' jaw clench, knowing exactly what house Madam Rosier was referring to. Regulus seemed to realise too as he lowered his gaze to his plate and held it there almost desperately. Lyra got the distinct impression that he was silently praying to be left out of whatever was brewing._

 _It seemed that Regulus was out of luck though as Madam Rosier regarded him again._

 _'They tell me you're quite adept at potions.' She smirked slightly when Regulus' head shot up. A smirk that was mirrored in the face of her son, who sat silently next to his mother, and who had been mercilessly staring at Lyra ever since she sat down. Lyra fought not to look up at him, knowing very well what she would find there._

 _Madam Rosier never looked anywhere else but at Regulus, though her attention certainly seemed to be focussed elsewhere. 'You must get your skills in that area from your father.' That smirk swelled. 'Though no doubt your curiosity comes from your mother.'_

 _Lyra didn't know why but her chest seemed suddenly tight. She almost missed the warning look Walburga shot across the table before schooling her features back into terse politeness._

 _'And what about you two?'_

 _Evan Rosier's eyes, still wholly trained on Lyra from across the table, were positively aglow at the twins finally being brought into the conversation. Lyra didn't look at Sirius even as the conversation between the heads of both families, sitting at the far end of the table, seemed to soften._

 _'From what they tell me_ you _can't even hold a wand straight.'_

 _The tightness in Lyra's chest grew as Madam Rosier turned her glare on her. She placed a foot over the top of Sirius'. A warning not to act, not to speak. This storm would be weathered, calmly._

 _Lyra didn't say anything as she held Madam Rosier's stare, both of them seeming to understand that it was a silent request to continue. A request that was proved too tempting for the older lady to refuse._

 _Madam Rosier tutted quickly. 'I heard you almost blew up one of the examiners.' She threw a sidelong glance at Walburga. 'But I suppose side effects were to be expected.'_

 _Something in Madam Rosier's voice changed, it was as if the rain had turned to hail, the storm now suddenly deadly. The same storm clouded in Lyra's chest, pressing outward in her lungs, she fought to keep it there._

 _The two men at the end of the table abandoned the pretence of a hushed conversation as the shift in the air hit them. Orion Black's eyes were narrowed, his dark grey eyes peeking through, swivelling between Madam Rosier and his wife. Rosier senior sat stiff in his seat, his expression unreadable as he regarded the twins._

 _Lyra's heart was hammering. She willed her breaths to remain concealed and even as she felt the eyes of the table trained on her._

 _Why were they here? She should have known better than to comply with the demand that they be present for this. What had she been thinking? Why were they here._

 _She couldn't stop the question running through her mind over and over as she looked between those gathered around the table – only avoiding Evan and Sirius' eyes. The question became louder as she saw her mother purse her lips, as her father's eyes landed on her, as Madam Rosier smirked._

' _I mean, if it wasn't bad enough to have them sorted into a house ripe with corruption, known for it's disappointments, then to watch as they openly consort with blood traitors and half-breeds . . .'_

 _Lyra's teeth ground at the word, to whom she was referring. Madam Rosier's smirk lifted momentarily as she caught Lyra's jaw tighten._

' _You would have at least hoped that they had passible magical skill. But to lack even there, coming from such an ancient and proud household.' She tapered off, her false sympathy making the air around them sizzle. 'Honestly, Walburga,' Madam Rosier said in a would-be polite voice, if it weren't for the smirk that still held grip of her mouth and voice, 'if I were you, I'd ask for my money back.'_

 _No one was looking at the twins any more, not even Evan who was now blinking down the table at his mother._

 _Lyra was sure she was crushing Sirius' foot with her own. She hoped her eyes weren't too wide as she looked outright at her mother for what was probably the first time in years. She found that Walburga had gone pale, a deep crease had formed between her eyebrows as she stared at Madam Rosier, at her words, at the accusation that laced them._

' _At least tell me they came with some sort of insurance.'_

' _Lysandra.' Rosier Sr's warning rumbled over the table top, thunder breaking through at last._

 _Is_ this _what they'd been dragged down here for? For Madam Rosier to indulge her curiosity, for her to finally uncover the truth to the rumours. Rumours she'd probably doubted to be true. Until now that is. For Walburga's silence was as much a confession as Madam Rosier seemed to need as she ignored her husband, leant back in her seat, placed her hands before her, lacing her fingers together and smiling, a cruel, all-knowing smile._

' _You always have been an unfortunate victim when it comes to life's little disasters haven't you, Walburga. But then, you always seem to find a solution. Even if the results prove even more disastrous.' All her amusement fell as she glared at Lyra. Suspicion and anger raged in her watery blue eyes._

 _Lyra held steady as she was inspected. Her hands were begging to be wrung, to be put to good use. The storm in her chest had invaded her stomach and was stabbing at her heart and throat. She could feel Sirius's annoyance and anger heating her side, especially as Madam Rosier opened her mouth again._

' _Although you've always been relatively lucky as well, I suppose. I doubt we all have to think very hard about why the youngest Lestrange agreed to your betrothal contract.' She shot her son a disapproving look as she noticed that his staring at Lyra had resumed. 'You might be magically inept but I don't suppose it likely that that particular detail factored into Rabastan's thinking . . . not whilst he was so distracted, as I find it likely he was, in any case.'_

 _Lyra's heart shot to her throat as Sirius' mouth opened, his snarling comment almost unleashing itself before Walburga said tersely, loudly, carefully, 'Yes, we're very pleased about the Lestrange's acceptance. It will surely be a most positive influence for Lyra.'_

 _Madam Rosier snorted as she abandoned all pretence. 'I daresay it will be, after having spent so long surrounded by the likes these two have kept for company. Blood traitors and half-breeds, who ever heard of such a thing.' She leant across the table, her seat creaking as she did so. 'The pups wouldn't know whether to be stupid or ugly . . . As if your blood isn't already tainted enough.'_

 _Like a crack of invisible lightening the room and all it's occupants went still, everyone and everything frozen in place save for Sirius – whose surprise almost knocked him from his chair – and Lyra, who'd clutched onto her knife and fork with white-knuckled fists, her breathing shaky from rage and exertion._

' _Lyra,' Sirius breathed in amazement. Even the shadows from the flickering candles had stilled. He looked beside him to find Lyra shaking._

' _I just . . . I just needed her to – to stop talking.' She just needed the thunder to stop, to find some protection from the hail that had been pounding into her. She just needed silence. She couldn't sit there anymore, listening to this awful woman say such things about her, about Sirius, about Remus . . . She just –_

' _Lyra!'_

 _The warning in Sirius' voice was clear enough, urgent enough that Lyra finally looked up from the table, right to the face of Evan Rosier. She gasped._

 _The skin around Evan's eyes was red, blistering, melting, his face still frozen in a leering stare, despite him coming undone, being unmade._

' _Lyra!'_

 _Lyra was jostled to where Sirius was now looking . . . at Madam Rosier . . . who's sneer was drooping, her face sagging as the skin around her mouth started to sizzle, dissolve._

She woke with a start to silence and shadows. Even in the dense dark she could make out the ivory of the high walls looming over her. She recognised those walls, there was only one place in the castle that looked like that.

Panic flooded instantly. She shouldn't be here. She'd told him never to bring her here. Now panting, she clamped her hands into fists, willing herself from ripping off the covers binding her to the bed and running from the room.

But what if the damage had already been done? Would she turn her head to find an injured body on the bed next to her? Why would he bring her here?

She screwed her eyes shut, trying to remember. But all she was met with was confusion and fear.

She needed to leave, right now.

As quickly as she moved to leave, the quicker she was collapsing back into the mattress gasping. An ache strong enough to push her back had bloomed suddenly around her middle. Horror plunged as she realised that it was different to the stabbing pain she'd come to associate with the wounds across her stomach.

Blind panic was surging, higher and higher, threatening to break and crash over her. It took all her mental discipline to rein in her horror, long enough for her to regain control over her limbs. She gripped the sheet and pushed it down. And after carefully peeling back her shirt she could see why the pain had changed.

Her world went cold.

The skin around the wounds were no longer blotted with shades of purple and green. The black tendrils had not only receded but had vanished entirely. And the scars, that had been soaked in an angry shade of red ever since they were carved into her, that had never fully closed, let alone healed, had now seemingly healed, completely.

White flesh stretched the span of her stomach in three great stripes. They were wide enough that they were raised and starkly contrasted the rest of her skin but the red, the black, the curse was gone. The curse was gone.

The panic from before flared higher like flames, licking at the lining in her stomach, against her rib cage, it scorched her throat and made her fingers pulse with dangerous heat.

Her breathing became difficult as she tried to remember how she got there in the first place. The harder she tried, the shallower her breathing became.

And louder than her pulsing fingers, louder than her shallows breaths, her raging panic, a monstrous, desperate howl pierced the night air.

* * *

 **So there's the dinner . . . But while it is a memory, it is also a dream . . . Make of that what you will. See you soon!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Yes, it's been a while . . . forgive me! Not my best or favourite chapter . . . please forgive me for that as well.**

* * *

' _You'd told me that you'd never do that again! You swore to me that you'd tell me if you were in trouble!'_

 _Lyra's calm wasn't shaken by Sirius' fury. 'I think you're remembering the conversation a little differently.'_

' _Enough, Lyra! One day your pride is going to get you killed, not Voldemort, or Death Eaters or Dumbledore – for whatever reason you think he's got it in for you. You're going to kill yourself!'_

' _And what did you want me to do, let you die? They've already killed one of us, Sirius! I won't let you be next.'_

XXXXX

It was a total panic.

They were supposed to make full moons fun – a monthly adventure to distract themselves from the fact that it used to be a monthly nightmare. But this was turning out to be just that.

It started with more frayed nerves than normal, which was to be expected, all things considered. On his way to the Whomping Willow, accompanied by Madam Pomfrey as per usual, Remus had glanced more than once in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. It was almost as if he was half-expecting something or someone to jump from the tree line, to attack him as they had done to her the night before.

Remus, much like the others, believed that Lyra hadn't simply succumb to her injuries whilst wondering around the forest. She was far too stubborn for that. No, something even more sinister had to have been at play.

Given all this – the mood amongst them, what had been happening – James supposed he should have seen a difficult night coming. But he hadn't wanted it to, so he'd told himself that it would be just like any other full moon.

To say that the universe was now spitting in his face would have been a gross understatement.

He could tell that Sirius wanted to bolt. James could practically taste his apprehension, his fear, his desperation. And although they couldn't communicate, the way Padfoot bounced on his haunches, looking frantically between James and Moony, he wanted to leave, to go to her.

James knew what had set the werewolf off, what had had him howling towards what little of the castle they could see out the Shrieking Shack's windows. Because as Moony's demeanour had changed, so too had Padfoot's. Both their heads had shot towards the direction of the castle.

And as much as James knew Sirius wanted to run back there, they both knew he couldn't. James couldn't contain Moony by himself. There was a reason they'd chosen their respective animagi. With just Peter and James, as Wormtail and Prongs, there would be no hope.

Moony howled again, sending vibrations through the floor.

James tried to look through haunches, hooves and padded feet as they rained down on the battered floor of the Shack, whilst still keeping one eye on the Werewolf that was trying with all his might to break free of them. He almost got a knock to the neck but finally James spotted a small something in the corner of the dark and dusty room.

Wormtail. He was stuttering about frantically. Had he been in human form, he would have been pacing – thoroughly unsure as to what he should do. James could hear his squeaks even over the howls and barks. His squeaks became considerably louder when he caught James' eye.

After a moment, Wormtail seemed to nod his head before scurrying quickly away out the door and down the stairs, back through the passageway, across the lawns and into the castle.

He'd know what to do.

Padfoot and Moony were going manic in a blind panic. Panic that had started and had been spurred on by _her_ panic. Calm that, and hopefully they would regain control.

He just hoped that Wormtail got to her soon.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Why was she here?

Why would he bring her here!

What had happened to her?

Why couldn't she remember!

She couldn't see. She couldn't feel. She couldn't hear. She couldn't do anything but try and break through the confusion. Confusion that was so loud, so thick, so suffocating that she was choking on it. She couldn't breathe!

The sounds of the Hospital Wing doors creaking open and footsteps hurrying towards her bed were completely consumed by her panic.

She couldn't hear the quiet, deep voice repeating her name.

She was too busy trying to recall the last fragments of her memory . . . It was Hogsmeade weekend, it was their anniversary, hers and Remus'. They'd agreed to meet in the forest – in the clearing they'd found the year before . . .

She'd got the first – She sat next to an old oak tree, deciding to wait. The air was so warm on her face, in the air, so filled with energy. She hadn't been able to resist feeling more of it . . .

In another panicked blink, Remus' face appeared . . . He had found her, they'd kissed, they'd hugged, then they'd yelled, and she walked away . . . Or had _he_ walked away?

Her head was throbbing. Bright spots of light blurred her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to let the darkness consume her again . . . If only the onslaught would end.

She'd never remember the feeling of strong hands as they settled over hers – hers that were grasping desperately at the sheets, as if clarity could be squeezed from the bedding, as if the sheets beneath her were her only tether to consciousness. One of the hands moved to her forehead, it's palm held flat against her worried brow.

Slowly her head cleared. The throbbing subsided, the confusion – violently thrashing in her mind – started to ease and clear – a break in the hurricane. She embraced the calm, the growing silence, she felt her muscles relax and let the darkness and silence rush in and claim her.

The dizziness lifted just in time for her to recognise the click of the Hospital Wing doors opening. As they creaked open, the pressure on her forehead lifted quickly, it's abrupt absence causing another strong wave of nausea and panic.

And again, she was clutching at the sheets, and again her breathing became difficult, short, sharp, jabbing into the insides of her lungs and chest and throat. And again, the presence of someone sitting down in the chair next to her escaped her noticed. Until they held her hand – the grip soft and clammy – and started repeating her name, over and over, softly and brimming with worry.

It took longer this time, but the haze lifted and she soon found her hand being held by Peter, who was almost as out of breath as she was. They both calmed together until at last – Lyra lay still, blinking unseeing up at the ceiling, Peter blinking down at her, every now and then his eyes would dart to the nearest window.

'Why are you here?' Lyra was caught off guard by the rawness of her voice. She'd struggled to reach above a whisper.

Peter looked again to the window. 'They're worried about you.'

She didn't need to ask him to elaborate. They were all worried about her, but she knew he meant Remus and Sirius in particular. But why send Peter? Why not come and see her themselves?

As if in answer, a cloud shifted outside, bathing the high windows and the space beyond with clear, luminescent moonlight. A breath escaped her.

'They're trying to keep him in the Shack.'

They'd have to try bloody hard.

Over the last year or so, there'd been a noticeable change in Remus' behaviour during full moons. Or so she'd been told – Lyra had decided not to participate in the Marauders mission to become animagi. At the time, although close to Remus, their friendship hadn't held them to the sort of commitment the boy's seemed to feel. At the time Lyra had known about his being a werewolf and she felt for his plight, but she recognised that the Marauders could help him, better than she could.

It had been James who had told her how Remus – or Moony as they'd come to call his werewolf persona – had changed. Sometimes it was had for them to keep him occupied, to keep him distracted from all that was tempting to a werewolf. At first, James had told her that they hadn't thought too much of it, but then they started noticing correlations. Sometimes it was when – however rarely – Remus and Lyra had been on the outs. Sometimes it had nothing to do with Remus whatsoever and more to do with how Lyra was thinking, feeling. It was as if Moony could sense her.

It turns out that James had been ribbing Remus about it for ages. That boy had all the sensitivity of a hippogriff in a china shop. He'd no doubt knew the implications but had been too stubborn and stupid to do his teasing quietly.

Lyra had no doubt that tonight was going to be tough for him.

'They shouldn't stay there. I'm sure Dumbledore has plenty of wards in place.' She could just picture it, Remus rearing, the other two compelled to get closer to him.

'Yeah, but you know how they are, always like to be where the action is.'

She didn't know whether he sounded envious or relieved at the omission of himself in his statement.

Silence fell over them. They both seemed to be straining towards the open window, trying to hear what was happening beyond it. It was foolish to think that they could, but Lyra couldn't help but worry, as she always did around the full moon. She worried for Sirius' safety, for the others safety and she worried that something might happen that would solidify his already tarnished opinion of himself. No matter what she told him, she didn't think he'd ever believe her when she told him that he wasn't a monster like he thought he was.

'Do you remember anything?' Peter whispered to her through the darkness.

She swallowed, ignoring the small painful lump lodged in the base of her throat and shook her head.

Peter nodded, looking slightly disappointed. 'Sirius found you. You were unconscious in the forest.'

'He went in there alone?' For some reason, the centaurs came to mind and the words Hagrid had relayed to her. The forest was a dangerous place, no matter how indestructible Sirius believed himself to be.

'Yes, well, you two do tend to act a bit . . . too brave from time to time.'

Lyra couldn't help but smirk. There was a time when Peter would never have offered his opinion, no matter how inconsequential the topic. And even though his remark now was on the cautious side, it was progress nonetheless – a far cry from the painfully timid boy she'd met so many years ago.

She could have guessed what he might have wanted to say, what words he was almost going to let slip – reckless, stupid, rash, unbelievably foolhardy. But, as always, he held himself back. Whether it was because he wished not to insult her, or that he was scared of saying the wrong thing, and perhaps jeopardising their friendship, and his friendship with the others. It frustrated her at times that he thought Sirius and the others would reject him for simply speaking his mind. Merlin knew that there was never any issue when the situations were reversed – which they were more often than not.

But she couldn't disagree with his statement, his words and the meaning behind them. She, after all, was out there alone first . . . or so it seemed. She still couldn't remember anything but distorted images.

Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to find the image of Remus' face. He looked upset . . . angry, almost. What had she done to get him looking at her like this?

She didn't even realise that her breathing had become jagged, short, until Peter's hand was once again covering hers.

She let him calm her to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

She woke slower this time. No one was holding her hand, no one was sitting next to her, calling her name. Blinking against the sharp morning light, the events of the night before came back to her in a slow but steady trickle.

She'd half expected to find Sirius sleeping in the chair beside her bed, but now it occurred to her that he and the others would have most likely gone back to their dormitory, to recover in private. She shuddered to think of the injuries they may have picked up, if Remus was as anxious as Peter eluded to.

Her head throbbed dully as she let it fall to her right.

He was just how she'd expected him to be. Unconscious, bruised, a new wound tearing across his left hand. Even while he was like this the small triangle between his brows held it's place. It made her yearn to move over to him, to hold him, to make his discomfort disappear. But there was such a leadenness set deeply in her bones that she didn't think she could lift a finger.

All she could do was let her eyes fall again and let the sound of the loud, thumping music to take over . . .

 _A small amount of credit was due, she'd lasted about half an hour longer than she thought she would. True, she'd confined herself to the most secluded corner of the room she could find after an hour of the party starting, but they'd managed to invite what looked like most of the castle and tried their best to cram them in the Gryffindor Common Room. To say it was crowded would have been a gross understatement._

 _It was stifling. And as more and more of the firewhiskey was passed around, the more claustrophobic she became. Soon the amount of unstable and excited magical energy polluting the air was too much and she decided to refill her own cup and climb through the portrait hole._

 _And so, she found herself sitting against the wall opposite the Common Room entrance. The Fat Lady, it seemed, had decided to visit another portrait for the night, so party-goers were free to come and go as they pleased. Lyra sat, nursing her drink, ankles crossed and legs stretched out in front of her. For a time, she simply watched giggling couples stumble from the portrait hole, holding hands as they went in search for some place more private. Every once in a while a latecomer would approach cautiously – many, if not all, were in costume. All appeared to be some sort of animal._

 _None of them seemed to notice Lyra, sitting quietly, watching them, grinning at their ridiculous costumes, trying not to stare at the giggling girls and the boys, smirking with anticipation as they left the party. No one noticed, until a certain someone stumbled out into the corridor – a person wearing a suit of dark, short fur and a yellow duck bill covering his nose and mouth. Stuffed in a pouch that had been worked into the front of the suit, were some oversized galleons and other various gold pieces. She couldn't help but laugh a little at seeing his poor attempt at a Niffler._

 _Remus swivelled around to face her, and the look in his eyes made her quiet. Slowly, he pulled his bill off. It helped to soften his expression._

' _Sounds like the party's a big success.' Her attempt at breaking whatever was hanging in the air failed._

 _Remus just held her stare, apparently too . . . shocked to speak for a moment._

 _And, for a moment, Lyra was struck speechless by the intensity of his look._

 _He'd obviously been drinking._

 _She tried again. 'James and Sirius really did out-do themselves this year.'_

 _With surprising sobriety, Remus shook his head. 'I never told James or Sirius about this.' He held up his bill, never looking away from her. His eyes seemed to be trying, desperately, to relay a message._ You remembered.

Of course she'd remembered. _She'd never forget the day he'd told her about his childhood wish that his parents would one day throw him a birthday party, a birthday party where everyone came dressed as their favourite animal. This wish was, of course, before Remus' fifth birthday and before his lifestyle made maintaining friendships more than a little difficult._

 _Of course she'd remembered. She'd remembered because_ he _had told her._ She remembered everything he told her.

 _Recognition seemed to overcome him._

 _She felt her heart rate increase as he stepped forward and made to speak._

 _He never got a chance to. At that moment the portrait swung open again and raucous laughter flooded the corridor. Seconds later, two figures stumbled out, an apparent Merman, bare-chested and trident in hand and a vampire, mattered hair and false teeth firmly in place._

 _A drunk James and Sirius._

' _Ah! There he is!' James shouted, throwing hand and trident up in glee. He made his way haphazardly over to Remus, throwing the arm holding the trident around Remus' shoulders. 'The man of the hour!'_

 _Lyra couldn't help the sting of disappointment at having been interrupted. It wasn't very often that she got the chance to talk Remus without the others around. And lately she'd been looking forward to talking to him, just to get to know him better, of course. And that sting of disappointment had become an unfortunate part of their interactions, every time they were cut short._

 _Lyra didn't miss the look of annoyance Remus gave at the sudden appearance of his friends. Somehow, it made her feel a little better, a little more reassured, dare she say it, even hopeful._

' _Sirius! Pads, I found 'im!'_

 _Remus had to duck so that James' arm wouldn't hit the back of his head._

 _Sirius hadn't made it a meter away from the portrait hole. He seemed to be looking wildly around for something, blindly. He shot around to James and lit up at seeing his apparently long-lost friend._

' _Moony!' His attempt at running to embrace Remus ended up with him almost falling flat on his face after tripping on the long cloak he was wearing – he'd apparently gone for the traditional muggle interpretation of a vampire. And what was most likely supposed to be a hug, in the end was really just Remus doing his best at holding Sirius upright – the former appearing rather disgruntled. Every few seconds, Remus would look to Lyra, completely apologetic._

 _But there was no bother, Lyra was no stranger to a drunk Sirius._

' _Where the hell have you been?' Sirius' words were slurred, but at least he was grinning. He took half a step back, swaying dangerously, taking Remus in with unfocussed eyes. 'And where's your costume!'_

 _Remus held out his bill, looking incredulously at Sirius, who was still being held up by Remus' hand on his arm._

 _But James and Sirius seemed oblivious to the fact that Remus was already in a costume._

 _James waved an absent hand. 'S'alright, we can fix that.' He leaned in closer to Remus, who flinched at the smell of James' breath. 'No one'll suspect a thing, mate.'_

 _Lyra had to bite her lip in order to supress a laugh as Sirius broke free of Remus' grip. He pulled out his wand and pointed it in Remus' general direction, laughing in bursts in anticipation._

 _James was grinning madly, but Remus was wide-eyed at the sight of Sirius' wand tip._

 _Lyra didn't make a move as Sirius began to move his arm, even if Remus was now holding his own up._

' _Sirius, don't!'_

 _But it was no use. Sirius had already finished. And Lyra couldn't hold back her laughter this time._

 _Remus looked down at his new and improved costume. His dark-fur suit was now baby pink. His pouch had disappeared, being replaced by a patch of white. Turning around, he found a saucer-sized cotton tail attached to his pants. Realising something, Remus raised his hands to his head. Bewildered and slightly embarrassed, he traced two long ears sticking out from his hair._

 _James and Sirius cackled with simultaneous laughter._

' _Perfect!'_

 _The two grabbed hold of an arm each and dragged him back toward the portrait. Just as they were about to re-enter the Common Room, Remus spared one more slightly desperate glance back at Lyra._

 _She didn't mind smiling back her assurances that all was forgiven._

' _Hey everyone! Look! It's Rabbit, the Remus!'_

XXXX

'What do you mean, you can't remember?'

'I don't see any other way I could put that,' Lyra mumbled, grabbing another piece of toast from the plate resting on her lap. She chewed on it slowly as she watched Sirius pace back and forth, rubbing his forehead as if trying to ward off a headache.

The matron had exhausted herself trying to make sure Lyra was, indeed, fine. No matter how much Lyra tried to convince her that the only thing she was feeling was hungry, Madam Pomfrey still seemed unconvinced. She'd been deeply concerned after learning of Lyra's memory loss and even more confused over Lyra's attitude. It was as if she'd been expecting some sort of riot, not the unnerving calm she was receiving from the girl sitting patiently in the hospital bed.

Lyra merely blinked her compliance after Pomfrey ran test after test, and she answered every question thrown to her with perfect measure. She _was_ unnerving, even to herself.

The only sign of anything amiss was the furtive glances she'd cast every so often to a still sleeping Remus, who hadn't stirred, not once.

When the interrogation appeared to be finally over, when Pomfrey could no longer think of any more spells to perform or tests to run or questions to ask, she gave a long futile sigh and Lyra saw the perfect opportunity to ask the question she'd been wanting to ask ever since she opened her eyes.

'May I be allowed to eat now?' She ignored Pomfrey's look of exasperation, silently asking how in the world could she be thinking about food when half her memories were clearly missing.

Lyra had felt faint and it had taken until her stomach gave a long, twisting, growl to figure out why.

She'd been eating ever since. When the first plate had been placed in front of her, it had half disappeared in a matter of minutes. Her ravenous appetite was gradually sated until she merely nibbled her way through what was left.

Sirius had been notified that she was awake and after her first plate of food had arrived. He'd come running into the Hospital Wing alone, apparently he hadn't bothered or thought to tell any of the others.

And now he paced in front of her, glaring at anything that creaked. A long, thin red mark rubbed on his cheek. To anyone else it would have seemed that he'd slept on something harder than a pillow, and the mark was an after image of it. But Lyra knew better, it was a healed wound. And the fact that the redness had lingered told her that it had been a particularly nasty one.

Again, she looked over to Remus. Longing to comfort him once again sweeping through her.

'How the hell could you be so stupid.' Sirius muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her.

Gritting her teeth, she willed herself not to snap back at him. In the half hour he'd been here, she'd heard that same sentence a dozen times. It wasn't just his attitude that irritated her, it was the fact that she couldn't remember what it was she'd supposedly done that was so stupid of her. Meeting up with Remus could hardly qualify, they'd met in that clearing countless times before, it was perfectly safe.

She couldn't wait till Remus woke and filled in the gaps in her memory, but part of her dreaded that he might still be angry with her. Frustration fizzled within her.

'Well it looks as if I haven't been the only one doing stupid things,' she said, shoving the blankets down and ripping up her shirt, Lyra pointed to the strips of raised, pale flesh across her stomach. 'What the hell is this?'

Sirius stopped dead. His hands, that had been crossed firmly across his chest, dropped numbly to his sides as he finally looked at her. His eyes moved slowly from her face, down her arm before finally landing on her stomach. It was mere seconds before he reconnected with her eyes – grey met grey, one storm cell closing in on another.

'Professor Antone ––'

'For Merlin's sake, Sirius ––!'

'Oh come off it, Lyra! What the hell was I meant to ––'

'I can't believe you! How could you do this?!'

'I couldn't tell him not to! You were unconscious!'

'I had it under control!'

'For fuck's sake!' Sirius screamed so loud it echoed.

A boy in a bed four beds down jumped awake, looking around to see what had startled him. Upon seeing Sirius standing there, his cheeks now blushed with angry colour, fists clenched and pumping, the boy looked towards the door to Pomfrey's office. It didn't take him long to realise that the matron was not about to come to calm things down, the boy quickly pretended to be asleep again.

Sirius was breathing heavily, as was Lyra – although her breaths were bookended by winces. The river of lava was fast becoming black and slow with cold. She leaned back into her pillows, never taking her eyes off Sirius, who leaned in at the same time, pushing his clenched fists onto the small table that had been placed over the bottom part of her bed.

He glared at her with an intensity she hadn't seen in a long time – but it had long since made her afraid . . . now it only made her wary.

'Do you know what pisses me off, though? What pisses me off is that you don't even deny how bad it was in the first place. Were you ever going to tell anyone? Or were we all going to find out about it at your funeral?'

Lyra rolled her eyes. 'I had it under control,' Lyra ground out through clenched teeth.

'Like hell you did! It took Antone all day and all night of researching to figure out what that curse was and how to cure it. The spell-work alone was ––'

'He performed magic on me?'

Sirius' throat bobbed.

'Merlin, Sirius, how could you be so stupid? Do you realise what could've happened?'

'I don't understand. Mr and Mrs Potter ––'

'Are people you trust. Professor Antone is someone neither of us know – and I doubt he's someone you like very much.'

Sirius ran a hand down his face and she knew she'd won. She could have stopped while she was ahead. She should have stopped. Maybe it was the medicine, maybe it was the fact that she'd just discovered that she'd spent the last two days here, helpless and her frustration was becoming harder to leash, but she was feeling all of a sudden reckless. And why shouldn't she? After all, if Sirius could be reckless on a daily basis and get away with it, have it encouraged even, why couldn't she from time to time – especially considering just _how_ reckless he had been.

'I know why you allowed it to happen,' she said, willing her voice to be steady. The time for yelling had passed, not wanting to wake Remus was motivator enough to remain calm. 'But you must understand where I'm coming from. After what happened the last time –'

'That was years ago.' Thankfully, he'd taken her lead and kept his voice down. 'And James has forgiven you for it. He forgave you almost as soon as it'd happened.'

'Not the point, Sirius,' Lyra muttered, trying and failing to ignore that cold wave of guilt clenching her innards.

It was times like these that she could have cursed whoever it was who coined the phrase 'time heals all wounds.' Time didn't heal everything. A simple, shallow cut perhaps – a slight between childhood rivals – that may heal, scabbing over before the ruined skin fell away. A deeper wound, however, being dealt a blow that you neither expected nor prepared for, a wound like that only festers, growing worse. Those who believed that time healed all wounds, had clearly never been cut that deep to begin with.

'Well then let me make a point.' Sirius strode around and took up the seat next to her bed. 'You need to stop doing this to yourself.'

It took all the self-control she still had left not to scoff.

'You need to take this to heart, Lyra. This,' he gestured to her now covered stomach, 'this was something you kept from me. I thought we'd talked about this. Things have changed – that's what you told me at the start of term. You're right, they have changed. You can't be like this anymore. You can't keep trying to ignore things, hoping that they'll go away.'

She knew she was scowling but she didn't care. _You can't, you can't, you can't._ _High words coming from a boy who can't go two days without landing himself in detention._ She'd suspected that he'd start a conversation like this sooner or later. It didn't make it any easier to hear though. _And he's always said that I was the worrier._

Spiteful retorts formed, one after the other, on the tip of Lyra's tongue, they itched to be free and she almost gave in. But she was so tired. They'd been back at school for just a few weeks and yet it felt as if it had been dragging on for months.

'I'm sorry, okay? Next time you think I'm at death's doorstep, I'll let you know, alright?'

She watched the lines around his forehead, hoping that they'd smooth out, that he'd accept her joke. But just as his brow started to move, the Hospital Wing doors banged open.

Lyra didn't look away from him until she had no choice to be distracted by a pair of hands enveloping her own.

Marlene wasn't looking at her, though, she was looking flatly at Sirius instead. 'You're in my chair, Black.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, I must have missed the "property of Marlene McKinnon" inscription carved into the wood.'

'Well isn't it a good thing that I'm here to tell you in person?'

With an unsuppressed groan, Sirius got up from the chair, he walked over to Remus' bed, sitting on the end of it, watching the two girls.

Marlene instantly got to work searching every inch of Lyra's face, looking for any sigh of injury, of distress, of anything out of the norm. After a minute it seemed that she was satisfied.

'I'm sure I don't have to tell you that you scared the bloody hell out of me. And if you ever do it again, I'll kill your brother.'

Sirius let out a noise of indignation. 'Why me?'

Marlene didn't look at him when she said, 'Because I don't want to lose twice.'

Lyra grinned. At least there were some things that wouldn't change.

Wanting to be distracted further, Lyra asked, 'How was your date with Aubrey?'

Marlene rolled her eyes dramatically. 'What a waste of time.'

Time. Not effort. Marlene never dedicated any more effort than she thought she'd need, unless it was a very, very special circumstance.

'Just another typical adolescent boy, wanting what every adolescent boy wants. Well, I can assure you, he was searching for it in the wrong place.' Marlene patted Lyra's hand, much like an old aunty would do whilst assuring a young one that she'd conducted a thorough search under the bed and had found no monsters. Marlene had conducted a thorough search of the male populous of Hogwarts and had found nothing worth getting overly-invested about.

Lyra relished in the grin that she felt. This is why she didn't think she could live without Marlene. She seemed to know just what Lyra needed and just when to give it. And besides, it was worth seeing the look of unsurprised offence on Sirius' face, even if he was using it to hide his simmering anger. Their behaviour, the routineness of it, was like a warm blanket.

Movement from one of the high windows opposite her bed caught her notice. Thankfully Marlene and Sirius were engaged in yet another verbal joust that Lyra could investigate without fear.

To her absolute annoyance, it was the Phoenix. He'd perched himself in the window. It seemed as if he'd chosen an alcove that was providing very little light, so as to not draw too much attention to himself. Lyra cursed his smarts.

As in their previous encounters, the creature seemed to be inspecting her, it's small, dark eyes roving over her.

As subtly as she could, Lyra quirked an eyebrow, blinking slowly. _I'm fine_ , she tried to tell it.

Fawkes sat there for another moment, before nodding it's great head in acknowledgment and swooping away.

She didn't know quite why, but for some reason, having Fawkes worried about her, wanting to know if she was okay, brought some sense of solace to her.

The bird was still an annoyingly intrusive creature though, of that there was no dispute.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Rabastan Lestrange was furious, that much was clear. He'd been in a foul mood for the past two days and it didn't look like the storm clouds were going to clear any time soon. He rushed into the Common Room, a letter clutched tightly in his hand. He didn't even make it five meters into the room before yelling at a group of second years to get out of _his_ spot by the fireplace. The second years were quick to move. They all shot nervous glances at the only one who had chosen to stay put.

But then again, Regulus wasn't a part of the second year's group.

Lestrange sent Regulus a withering look as he came to stand beside the hearth, yet he didn't say anything. Regulus took this to mean that he was welcome to stay, or he'd be tolerated at least if he chose not to scurry off like the younger students had.

He could tell that Lestrange wanted to say something, every now and then the corners of his mouth would twitch, or he'd shift his weight from one foot to the other, as if about to walk over and take a seat. After every one of these movements had passed, Lestrange would glance back at the letter.

After watching this for a minute or two, Regulus turned back to his potion's text book. _Whatever it is he wants to share, let him break the silence first, let him come to me._ Regulus knew very well that the first person to break the silence would lose this little battle of wills.

If Lestrange wasn't already in a dreadful mood, Regulus would have smirked upon hearing his sharp voice cut across the crackling fire.

'Merlin, Rosier's an incompetent bastard.'

 _Ah, victory taste's so sweet._ Regulus closed his book and raised an eyebrow at Lestrange who was still so engrossed in the letter that he could have been talking to himself, if he were that kind of person.

'Everything he touches turns to shit.'

 _And yet she's been in the hospital wing for the past two days._ Regulus didn't dare say this out loud. He hadn't dared mention anything about what had happened two days ago at all. The plan had failed, and he had no idea how he felt about it. Thankfully, no one had asked him either.

'Do we know what happened yet? Is he talking?' Regulus asked. If he didn't start saying _something_ then people were going to be even more suspicious of him than they likely already were.

Lestrange leered into the fire. 'No. He says he doesn't remember. He says that the last thing he remembers is meeting Greyback at the agreed place.'

'And you don't believe him?'

'Of course I don't! Rosier's always been a talentless dolt, but his no idiot. He's obviously lying to protect himself. Although from the sounds of things, that might not be going to well for him either.' Lestrange loosed a callous, sneering grin at the thought of Rosier's punishment. Kicking himself from the wall, Lestrange looked at Regulus for the first time. 'He's decided to give it a rest for the time being, doesn't want to provoke things any further than they have been already, and he wants to look further into this whole mess.' He brandished the crumpled letter. 'But when the time comes, we're going to take action. And then you're up, Black,' he said, pointing directly at Regulus' chest. 'Then it'll be time to see if you're as smart as everyone says you are. Don't screw up.' With that, he strode across the Common Room and descended the stairs to the dormitories.

Regulus watched him go, only turning back when Lestrange was out of sight, his jaw clenched painfully tight. He didn't know whether to sing, shout or throw-up.

* * *

 **Okay, so I know it's long (the longest yet!) . . . and to me it feels VERY much like a bunch of filler info. And yes, I know at the end of the last chapter I suggested that Lyra would interact with Regulus, but I thought it important to introduce Peter a little more and to start to piece together Lyra and Remus' background story.**

 **I realise I'm not giving much away at this point but I hope it's enough to keep you all interested.**

 **Till next time (hopefully it won't be as long as it took to get this one up). Thanks!**


	18. Chapter 18

**So so sorry for the mini hiatus on this chapter! Since you last heard from me I've moved interstate, and have just been suffering from the worst writer's block in regards to this story. I think I'm getting back on track with it though so you just have to bear with me a little longer.**

 **Hope you like this one!**

* * *

' _You've always been the best of us, Regulus. No matter what you've done, or whatever you're about to do, you have to believe that.'_

* * *

 _To Albus Dumbledore,_

 _Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,_

 _Dear Headmaster,_

 _Concerning our last correspondence regarding the events of four nights previous, I must admit that I still hold some reservations in terms of security at Hogwarts. While I am aware that such matters are out of my jurisdiction and lie with you, I feel that I must stress, once again, my belief that in order to better protect the castle and it's inhabitants, security is paramount._

 _I have full faith in you and your staff, though my offer still stands, and if you would like for me to dispatch a small number of the Auror team out to the school to enhance any of the more vulnerable points of the grounds than it can be easily arranged._

 _I am hoping for the student's speedy recovery and wishing you and all those at Hogwarts a safe remainder of the school year._

 _Yours,_

 _Harold Minchum_

 _Minister for Magic_

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his crooked nose as he put the letter back down on the desk in front of him. While he understood the Minister's concerns, the vast majority of the Hogwarts population – teachers included – did not make a habit out of wandering the Forrest. The security at Hogwarts was well in hand. This rare instance, of course, had to involve the students most likely to get caught up in trouble.

Looking across the office, he caught the eye of Fawkes. Despite the fact that he might not have been keeping a close enough eye on Miss Black, he had noticed the lack of Fawkes' presence more than once over the last few days.

'Is that where you've been? Checking up on her?'

The bird only blinked in response.

Phoenixes rarely formed bonds with people, which is why they often spend their life in the wild, which is why Dumbledore had been asked so often what he had done in order to successfully domesticate one. But they were wrong. He hadn't tamed Fawkes, hadn't dulled his wildness. Phoenixes were blessed with exceptionally long life. Dumbledore had long arrived at the conclusion that Fawkes would long out-live him and he was simply humbled that Fawkes had chosen to spend this part of his life with him.

Now, it would seem, the magnificent creature before him had taken to another. But, if the suspicions Dumbledore held about Lyra Black were true, this was something of an entirely different nature.

Over the past few years his suspicions about her had been growing. Now, what with recent events and what he had hitherto conjectured, Dumbledore felt that he was so close to uncovering the truth about it all. The conversation he'd had with the girl had plagued him. She had proven to be as elusive as he had expected. He found his gaze lingering on the sorting hat, wondering absentmindedly if he should have acted sooner, should have reached out to her, then, he doubted she would have ever accepted.

A knock on the door to his office tore him from his thoughts. Contemplating what could have been was futile, now he could only hope to plan for the immediate future, and to determine whether Lyra Black was a potential ally or inevitable threat.

XXXXXXX

'From all accounts, Headmaster, apart from a little fatigue and the obvious issue of her loss of memory, she is fine as far as I can tell.' Madame Pomfrey seemed not at all pleased at her own report. Perhaps she was hoping to have stumbled upon some sort of explanation for Miss Black's condition. Obviously, she was not a woman who sat idly by when there was a mystery to be solved.

 _An annoying trait by any standards._ Antone thought, shifting in his seat as he gave the woman a side-long look.

She was peering at Dumbledore, as if she expected him to suddenly reveal the reasons for all this. Instead, the old wizard just looked contemplatively around the room, pausing for a moment to study his phoenix who had perched itself on a chair near the entrance to the circular office.

Perhaps sensing that Dumbledore was not going to make any ground-breaking revelations, Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat. 'I would like to keep her in the Hospital Wing for another night at least. But,' she hesitated, becoming nervous despite Dumbledore's attention still being diverted, 'I would like to suggest keeping her until we can find a way to recover her memories.'

Dumbledore seemed to consider this for a moment. His eyes held a heaviness, a concentration so intense as he looked to the creature by the door, that he might have been having an entirely separate, silent conversation with it as well as the one already taking place.

Antone would have liked to studied the interaction more but Dumbledore chose that moment to drag his eyes away from the bird and rested them instead upon Antone, himself.

'Is there any indication, Professor, that there may be a link between Miss Black's memory loss and the wounds you treated?'

At the mention of the wounds, Pomfrey shifted indignantly in her seat, no doubt annoyed that she was not the first point of call regarding anything medical. They had all read Healer Potter's report. They had all seen the name of the person suspected of giving Miss Black those wounds – and imbedding that curse within them. But they had not said the name out loud, they had, in fact, skirted the issue almost entirely.

Antone ignored the woman sitting beside him as he addressed the Headmaster. 'It is possible, Headmaster, but I would have to look into the curse further, to see if there are any other cases of a similar nature to that of Miss Black's.'

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his bright blue eyes never wavering in their intensity. 'Very well, then I think it may be for the best if Miss Black is released tomorrow.'

Madame Pomfrey shifted again, this time she looked quite ready to protest, but when met with Dumbledore's raised hand, she stilled.

'If there is nothing physically wrong with Miss Black, and if she is up to resuming her normal routine then I do not see any excuse for her to remain in the Hospital Wing.' Dumbledore's eyes sparkled a bit, as his lips twitched upwards. 'Besides, I cannot foresee Miss Black remaining content in a hospital bed for too much longer. I'm sure there are those who are eagerly awaiting her return to school.'

They all knew to whom he was referring. Mr Black had hardly left his sister's side over the last two days. His presence was half-worrying, half-exasperating.

Antone had felt the suspicion rolling off Sirius Black. It was not something he needed to contend with . . . not now . . . not after all that almost gone so terribly wrong. No, the quicker Miss Black was released, the quicker he would once again be allowed to distance himself from the Black twins.

He was only mildly aware that Pomfrey had inclined her head in agreement and that Dumbledore had dismissed them.

Antone rose without thinking, watching as Madame Pomfrey left, passing the phoenix without so much as acknowledging its existence. He'd only taken two steps to follow her before he paused, his mind finally catching up, reminding him of what he'd pre-planned.

'Is there anything else, Professor?'

Antone turned back to the Headmaster. 'Yes Headmaster, in fact there is. It's about the nature of Miss Black's wound, sir. I don't believe that the curse was intended to cause as much pain as it eventually did.'

Dumbledore simply raised an eyebrow. 'Explain.'

'Well, sir, after much research I found the curse that caused the wound. The nature of the curse is designed to feed off magical energy. It is, in most cases, relatively harmless, with the notable exception of metamorphagi who can go days, even weeks, consuming vast amounts of energy to maintain their desired appearance.

'Nevertheless, the curse should be treated right away of course, but the amount of magic that one would need to expend in order reach a critical level would be a great deal more than what the average witch or wizard utilises. It needs magic to fuel it.' He paused, making sure that Dumbledore was following. From the look he was receiving, Dumbledore was understanding him. 'In essence,' Antone said, in an effort to simplify things, for the both of them, 'the curse is designed in such a way that whenever someone uses magic, the wound will grow worse.'

'In her report, Mrs Potter stated that the wounds to Miss Black's stomach were quite severe, that they became worse when treatment was attempted to heal them,' Dumbledore recited, his words heavy with curiosity.

'Exactly, Headmaster,' Antone leant over the chair ever so slightly. 'At the time Miss Black was brought to the Potter house, she'd just been recently attacked. Clearly the curse was imbedded into the wounds she sustained. Despite this, I do not believe that the curse had nearly enough time for the wounds to become as bad as they reportedly were. And once the wounds were healed the curse should have subsided. This particular curse has been known to lay dormant for months, even years without posing a threat to the victim, but by what we have seen, it appears that the curse was never truly neutralised.'

Dumbledore, not about to break his contemplative calm, simply asked, 'And your conclusion?'

Antone blinked once, not having been expected to be called upon for anything but stating the facts. 'I – I suppose that the only way for the curse to take hold so quickly, without Miss Black performing any magic, herself, was that her magical energy was severely depleted somehow. This curse has the ability to turn in on itself if not provided with enough magical energy. In a way, it is a double-edged sword – it feeds off the victim's magic, yet burrows deeper to find more if the initial supply wanes. Perhaps something of this nature occurred during the struggle Mr Black described?'

Silence fell thickly over the room as Dumbledore considered this, the tips of his long fingers pressed together in front of him. He stared at the top of his desk for a moment before nodding slowly.

'Thank you, Professor, for bringing this information to me, and for being so thorough in your investigations.'

Antone replied with a nod. He turned to leave but Dumbledore spoke again, forcing him to turn back and face the Headmaster once more.

'Tell me, if you will, Professor, how is Miss Black progressing in your class?'

Antone tried not to let his confusion show too much. 'Fine, Headmaster.'

'And there have been no issues in her . . .' Dumbledore paused, the tips of his fingers starting to tap together, 'performances?'

A memory flashed to the forefront of Antone's mind, of Miss Black's wand shaking slightly in her hand as she lifted it, pointing it unsteadily towards her blonde friend, of the bright, intense beam that had shot from the end of it but only for a moment before her friend clutched her hand in pain. Within a blink of an eye the memory had faded and Antone shook his head. 'No, sir, none.'

Dumbledore held his gaze for an uncomfortably long moment, his bright eyes glinting over the tops of his spectacles. The room seemed to grow a bit brighter as the Headmaster offered a smile. 'Very well, I was merely curious,' he said lightly. 'I must admit that I find Miss Black to be one of Hogwarts more interesting pupils, don't you?'

Antone gave a tight-lipped smile, not too sure how to respond. 'Quite sir.'

That seemed to be enough for Dumbledore as the man stood from his chair, his whole body singing of relaxation and comfort. 'Well, thank you again, Professor, and if there's anything more you wish to share with me than please don't hesitate to pop by.'

'Thank you, Headmaster,' Antone said, nodding his goodbye to the old man before turning and heading down the spiral staircase.

He kept his head down the whole way through the castle, only looking up when he found himself surrounded by owls of every variety and shape. He tempted one down from the highest rafters with a small treat and had it sit next to him as he extracted a small piece of plain parchment from his notes and a quill from inside his robes.

 _Your suspicions were right. Dumbledore suspects the truth._

XXXXXX

Even though the wind was making her eyes water and the ever so gentle drizzle created a thick mist, she still glared at the forest. She'd been contemplating storming in there, demanding an explanation, but whether it was from exhaustion or not wanting to start something that could end in potential problems, she was held back. She was more than a bit proud of herself for that, holding herself back. Normally it would be an easy task, but she had been feeling exceedingly restless ever since she woke up in the Hospital Wing.

She was frustrated. Frustrated at the fact that she'd been unable to remember anything even after having been released from the Hospital Wing. Frustrated with Sirius for being so irresponsible and putting everyone in danger. More than anything else, however, the fact that the true nature of her wounds had been so publicly discovered had so severely bruised her ego that she hadn't been able to look anyone in the face since she was released.

She could tell how annoyed Sirius was, and how concerned all the others were. She knew that they meant well, but she couldn't help but be irritated by it.

She had had everything under control. Her stomach had been bad, but she'd been handling it.

She sensed the hordes of people making their way towards the Quidditch pitch before she heard them. Pulling her scarf further up her neck, cursing the dip in weather, she waited to be joined by the others. Normally she loved the cold. Cold meant Hogwarts, when the weather started to improve, and the sun became a regular sight, it meant that the school year would soon end and she'd have to return to the life she'd tried so hard to forget.

But this year was different. She didn't know what the summer would bring. And she was feeling almost as much dread about returning to the Potters as she normally did about returning to Grimmauld Place. The fact that she would no longer be able to look forward to going back to Hogwarts at summer's conclusion filled her with even more unease.

A movement at the edge of her sight made her turn to the forest again.

It appeared that all was still, quiet, mysterious, just as it should be. She was sure something had moved though. Not being one for copious amounts of patience, Lyra was about to turn around when she caught sight of a pair of glinting eyes, obscured in the tree line.

They were staring right at her and she had a sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly who she was looking at, or rather what. Narrowing her eyes, she contemplated going down to them right now and speaking her mind. As if reading her mind, the eyes were gone, the trees rustling as they moved further into the forest.

Gritting her teeth, Lyra swore to herself that she'd confront them eventually, they couldn't hide in there forever.

XXXXXXX

Sirius was pissed off. This was beyond angry, this was pissed.

He'd spotted her in the Gryffindor stands on his way to the middle of the pitch, where Madam Hooch and the Ravenclaw team were waiting. He'd gripped his beater's bat tighter at the sight – her, sitting there, flanked by Lily and Remus. Immediately, he noticed that both Remus and Lyra sat a little more rigidly than was natural. Sirius didn't think they'd talked to one another since she was released.

She was evading everyone and everything.

He was forced to return his attention to the Quidditch pitch as Hooch called for the two captains to shake hands.

As the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were on fairly good terms, neither captain looked like they were out to kill – not at all what the circumstances would be if they were facing the Slytherins. Even so, James's features were set hard, after all, this was Quidditch, not something to be taken lightly. When you step onto the pitch, every player not sharing your colours was the enemy.

Sirius was finding it hard to maintain that mindset though, that was until he spotted Bertram Aubrey standing to the left of the tall, thin Ravenclaw captain.

Immediately, the sight of the boy set Sirius' already boiling blood into a rampage.

Maybe it would be like facing the Slytherins.

XX

He almost didn't want to go back to the ground. If he could only stay up here forever, with nothing to worry about except rain clouds and lightening. James was going to kill him. Not that losing the game was necessarily his fault, but he'd have to hear about it until they had a shot at redemption.

Even from this height, Sirius could spot Aubrey. The smug bastard. Sirius had tried the whole game to bat the bludgers in his direction. There were a few times he'd really thought he'd got him as well, only to be thoroughly disappointed when he saw the Chaser fly out of the line of fire.

After flying another lap of the ground Sirius had no other choice and made his way to the ground. As soon as his feet touched land, James was on him.

'What the ruddy hell was that?' Throwing Sirius his wand, which James had already retrieved form the changing rooms. Sirius barely managed to catch it. 'Where were you, planting daisies!?'

'Well you are what you sow!'

Sirius' wince dropped into a scowl. He and James turned to see Aubrey, surrounded by Ravenclaw's, all laughing in delight – it wasn't every day that someone beat the Gryffindor team.

Without even glancing at each other, James and Sirius had pulled out their wands and had sent dual hexes at the boy. Instantaneously Aubrey's head began to swell. All those around him started shouting for Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey as it continued to grow and grow.

In the midst of hysterics James managed to gain enough air to yell over, 'Thought we'd give you a head to match, Aubrey!'

Sirius' barking laugh joined some snickers from the Gryffindor's who had filed onto the ground. He caught a glint of blonde hair off in the distance and his laughing stuttered. Then she caught his eye and he all-together stopped.

XXXXXXX

She'd left before the game had finished. She didn't even know why she'd sat down to watch it in the first place. The prospect had never really interested her, and as soon as the crowds began to become more invested in the outcome, she'd found the atmosphere to be increasingly bothersome.

Avoiding Remus' questioning look as she rose from her seat had been hard enough. Pulling out of the gentle grasp he enclosed around her wrist was impossible.

'Are you alright?'

She nodded.

He didn't look convinced.

She held onto his wrist with her free hand in reply, giving it a soft squeeze.

He searched her face for another moment before yielding defeat and releasing her.

She'd tried not to look too relieved.

The doors to the Great Hall were not too far away now, the promise of solitude and silence lurking behind them, when she spotted another figure also making their way to the castle. A black-haired, green-robed figure.

'Regulus!'

To her utter surprise, he stopped. His back still to her, she was worried that he'd keep walking, that maybe he'd only stopped out of habit. But he stayed.

All the words, all the mentally-rehearsed speeches, all the things that had been so relentlessly flitting through her mind over the last month had suddenly vanished. All she could do was stand, gaping soundlessly, willing something – anything – to find it's way out of her mouth. But just the sight of him, finally unmoving, was enough to leave her dumbstruck.

Then he turned, and her shock doubled, this time it twisted through her chest like a dull blade.

She had never seen a look of such disgust, of condemnation, of hurt from him. And it was entirely directed at her.

Trying to blink away the pain of it, she finally found something to say.

'How are you?'

'Better than you by the sounds of it.'

The venom in his voice made her wince.

A palpable silence quickly took hold, the soft whistle of the cool wind the only thing to be heard. She didn't know what else to say. She didn't know what she _could_ say.

She was living in a world full of broken things, why shouldn't she be able to add one more thing to it.

A part of her felt compelled to apologise. But she couldn't. The ghost of the pain she's felt that day reminded her that she shouldn't have to apologise – ever.

'You should have accepted her offer.'

It took only a moment to realise what he was talking about. It was becoming clearer to her that they were both trying to find ways to mend what had torn between them. Unfortunately, both possible solutions were also completely impossible.

She could see the desperation that was hiding under the mask of stern resentment, too afraid to show itself lest it gained strength. It lingered in the tightened jaw, the way his fingers clenched and unclenched. But it would never win. Regulus had simply been taught too well. And he had seen the consequences of ignoring those lessons.

'It wouldn't have changed anything,' she said quietly, her words almost too weak to penetrate the whistling wind.

'It would have changed everything!'

All she could do was shake her head. After all this time, he was still naive to the ways of the world he'd chosen to be blinded by.

'Surely you must know why I couldn't stay there.'

'All I know is why you left.'

There wasn't even time to call out before his figure was ascending quickly towards the castle, through the doors and out of sight.

This was her punishment.

She was now walking along the only path that could have been taken, but still she was facing the afterglow. Everything has a price. That was something her mother had told her once, when Lyra was young and had asked why her eyes were different to Sirius'. To this day, Lyra had no idea what her mother was talking about, but the words would forever ring truth.

Everything has a price. Lyra had chosen peace over death, and she would never be whole again.

* * *

 **So, what did you think? Always great hearing from you so please leave me a review. Hopefully I can get to 50 reviews with your help!**

 **Till next time!**


	19. Brief AN

Hi all!

So I'm sorry that this isn't a chapter, I just wanted to let you know that I am still here and im still working on The Blade Itself. I've been attempting to get this next chapter written but I'm having a bit of writers block unfortunately.

I've got most of the ending of this fic ready to go, getting there though is, at the moment, a little frustrating. So if there's anything you guys want to see, or anyone's POV you want explored a little more, or whatever I'd love to hear from you.

In the meantime I'm going to continue with the next chapter.

Thanks! Xx


	20. Chapter 19

**And I'm back. Sorry about the delay (as per usual) and thanks to everyone who continues to read, follow, favourite and review this story, I wouldn't be doing it without you guys. This story has now gone over 200 pages on my laptop, and has surpassed 100,000 words, I always knew it was going to be a long one, but there's still plenty of the tale to go.**

 **This chapter is just a little bit of fun, mainly to see how the girls interact with each other, and there's a teensy bit of Remus/Lyra as well, for all you romantics.**

 **I'd really love to reach another milestone on this story by reaching 50 reviews, anything you can do to help me get there would be amazing.**

 **Thanks, and enjoy!**

* * *

' _I just thought you would have asked Lyra,' she said, still taking in the way Lily's right hand clutched her left._

 _'I was going to, at first, but then I realised that,' Lily paused before pushing out a huff, 'we've always been friends, Marlene, we were just too stubborn to ever admit it. Weren't we?'_

* * *

Thank Merlin, Gryffindor, the Founders and whatever else was out there that played a role in the happenings in life at Hogwarts, that January was finally over.

As was to be expected, it had taken the rest of the school a few days to get over the intrigue surrounding Lyra's little stay in the Hospital Wing. Sometimes, Marlene wondered how that girl can live under the assumption that no one noticed her, or cared what she did, but a part of her knew that Lyra, being as perceptive as she was, knew exactly what everyone else was thinking. Lily had suggested that, if anyone should ask, that they should simply spread the lie that it was a nasty bout of stomach flu. Well, at least they weren't completely lying about the stomach.

Most of the school bought it. Apart from some of the more insufferable girls who muttered amongst themselves, it was only the teachers who openly showed their knowledge. Marlene was surprised Lyra hadn't ground her teeth down to stubs after she'd caught the Professor's openly staring at her throughout classes. They were obviously trying to keep it on the subtle side, but it was hard to be subtle around Lyra Black.

The girl herself, however, was still frustratingly stubborn when it came to her own inner workings.

'It's February.'

They were alone in the dormitory, Dorcas and Mary had gone to the Library to study, although, Marlene didn't doubt that study was code for Dorcas ranting while Mary listened. And Lily was spending the day with James, as it was a rare Sunday where he didn't have Quidditch obligations – and even if he did, there was no doubt that Lily had been able to talk him out of it.

Lyra, who actually was studying – choosing to do so in the comfort and solitude of the dormitory – didn't even look up as she hummed in agreement.

Frustratingly stubborn.

Abandoning her own work in light of new pursuits, Marlene threw her quill onto the table beside her and leant back against her own bed cushions.

'So, I've been trying to decide who would provide the most entertainment as a date on Valentine's Day.'

Another hum – not that she'd been expecting anything more at this point.

'But everyone around here is so dull, so transparent. I want someone unpredictable, someone who's unafraid of trouble. Actually, I want someone who _looks_ for trouble.' Lyra's scribbling was becoming slower. 'Maybe someone with a record of being a rebel, maybe someone who, say, likes dangerous things, like duels, or motorbikes.'

Lyra stopped writing, lifted her head – and an eyebrow – to deliver a deadpan look across the room. 'Your humour's almost as bad as his is,' she said before returning to her homework.

Marlene chuckled having already been expecting such a response. 'But it _is_ Valentine's Day soon . . .'

'Your point?'

'I was just wondering if you and Remus have anything special planned.'

'I see you haven't let go of this?'

It was a hard thing to let go of. The boy was positively distraught when Lyra had been in the Hospital Wing, and he wasn't normally the type to become ruffled. It wasn't every day that Remus Lupin came back from a walk sporting rather red and scuffed knuckles as he had done after she and Lily had given the boys the news. He especially wasn't someone to hold a grudge for as long as he seemed to do either.

'Well I just thought I'd ask, so as to avoid potentially walking in on you two having a good Valentines shag in our dormitory.'

'It's a good thing we've decided to shag in his dorm then.'

Marlene felt her jaw go slack.

Lyra lifted her head, much slower this time, the beginnings of a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. 'I'm joking.'

'I'm not completely convinced your lying.'

It was becoming rather maddening. For the most part it was fun. Goading the Black twins was always fun. But even she couldn't help but feel a little pang of hurt every time Lyra deflected a question or scoffed at the apparent absurdity of what Marlene was so certain of. She considered Lyra to be one of her closest friends, if not _the_ closest friend she had. Entertaining the possibility that she didn't trust Marlene, that maybe she would make fun more than be happy for the two, left a rather bitter taste in her mouth.

But, just like always, Lyra smiled, shook her head and got back to whatever she was doing.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Lily was fuming. She glared across the table at James to find that he was caught up in a fit of laughter. It did not help her mood. Always, always it seemed, he was busy. Busy with Head Boy duties, busy with Quidditch practice, busy plotting merlin-knows-what with Sirius, Remus and Peter.

In the entire time she'd known him, she could count on her hands the number of times she'd spotted James in the Library, and even then, she was almost certain that whatever he'd been doing had nothing to do with school.

She had spent the entire day yesterday trying to forget about school and only focus on them – which was still a new and strange concept in itself. And for the better part of the day it had worked. They'd taken a walk around the grounds, taking advantage of one of the first really sunny days. They'd stopped by Hagrid's for tea and Lily had laughed when she'd caught James looking towards the Quidditch posts with pure longing.

And then it had hit her like a bludger to the chest. She'd forgotten all about her transfiguration essay. McGonagall was going to kill her! She said as much to James who simply grinned and asked her what the worry was, it wasn't as if it was overly complex or anything.

Lily could do nothing but gawp at him. She'd been trying to master the spell for nearly a week and here he was telling her it was easy? To prove his point, he'd pulled out his wand and transformed the closest rock into several small golden retriever puppies.

At the time, having been swaddled by a bunch of furry, energetic puppies, she'd found her jealousy and frustration being licked away. Now, however . . .

It just wasn't fair that he was so good at everything. At least up until this year he was never particularly humble about the fact, which made it much easier for her to resent him.

He looked across the table to find her looking at him, sending her a good-natured wink. Her bristling subsided, just like that. Merlin, he annoyed her.

Noticing that the noise level in the Great Hall had started to quieten slightly, Lily looked towards the entrance. Lyra was making her way over to where Lily sat at the Gryffindor table, a dejected look on her face. She dropped her bag on the seat before she too gracefully plonked herself down, reaching immediately for a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

'Tough morning?'

Lyra took a swig from her goblet, showing Lily a long, red burn mark running the length of the girl's hand. She raked her brain and remembered the mishap that had happened in Charms, first period. They'd been set the task of perfecting the Bluebell Flame Charm. All had been going well until there was a gasp of pain from the table next to her. Lily turned to find that Lyra had dropped her wand and was clutching her hand, the charm had somehow backfired. After all these years, it still shocked her a little that someone from such an old line of magic could find performing magic so difficult.

'If one more professor looks at me like I'm about to break like glass than I'm going to have to remind them that I'm related to Sirius.'

A chuckle escaped Lily, one that was mirrored from across the table. Sirius had heard what his sister had said.

'Just tell me who to get and it shall be done, with great pleasure, too,' Sirius said, raising his own goblet in a toast.

For a moment it looked as if Lyra was actually considering telling him what professor she was talking about. She eventually smirked and rolled her eyes.

'I wasn't being – I was just joking,' she told him.

'Funny, for a moment I thought you were going to ask me to be serious, and you know that I always am. Didn't you get that feeling Prongs?'

'I most certainly did, Padfoot.'

'Sometimes I wish _you_ were called Regulus . . . At least you wouldn't be able to make any awful puns from that name.'

'Doubting my pun skills, Lyra? That's highly irregulus of you. And here I was thinking only the other day how lyracal you normally are.'

'For the love of Merlin, stop.'

James and Sirius were laughing at Lyra's dejected expression, and so was Lily, until she realised that there were other, louder bursts of sniggering coming from somewhere behind them. Turning she saw Penelope Greengrass and her little band of friends at the Ravenclaw table, all with their heads together, smirking across the hall at them.

No, not at them, at Lyra.

'Come on, I'll walk with you to herbology, that's what you have next right?'

Lyra looked across at Lily, eyebrows slightly knitted.

Normally, Lily wouldn't make this kind of offer, but she thought it best for Lyra to leave the Great Hall before she realised that Greengrass and her friends were not-so-subtly talking about her behind her back.

Putting a bread roll into her bag, Lyra nodded and got up from the table. They waved goodbye to the boys and Lily breathed deeply, thankful over her good timing.

They'd just reached the Entrance Hall, which was practically deserted due to everyone still having lunch when Lily spotted them.

She hadn't noticed Greengrass and her friends leaving the Ravenclaw table.

'Hey Evans!' Greengrass called from the alcove near the oak front doors.

Lily supressed an irritated sigh as the girls made their way over to where Lily and Lyra now stood. It was obvious that Greengrass had meant to block their way.

The blonde gave Lyra a long, assessing, sneering look before turning her attention to Lily, a simpering smile apparently more appropriate for the Head Girl.

'We wanted to talk to you about organising something for Valentine's Day. You know, something more than the normal Hogsmeade trip.'

'Yeah, just to help liven things up a bit around here, being our last Valentine's at Hogwarts and all,' Clarice Robertsteen piped up.

'Uh, well I'll have to think about it,' Lily said, still not liking this at all.

'Come on, Evans,' Greengrass said, the glint in her eyes hardening a bit. 'Talk it over with Potter. Now that you two have finally got something to do on Valentines, might as well make it special, no?'

Lily felt herself grow warm at the insinuation. She definitely didn't like this.

'It's not like everyone can say that.'

There it was, Greengrass had turned back to Lyra, who up till this point had seemed very disinterested in the entire encounter. Now that she'd seemingly been pulled into the encounter, she lifted her gaze and met eyes with the Ravenclaw. That, it seemed, was provocation enough.

'It _is_ a shame that there's some in the castle who won't be doing anything on the fourteenth but, why let that spoil things for the rest of us?'

Lyra did nothing but raise an eyebrow.

'Yeah some can conjure their own excitement, no matter what day it is,' Robertsteen folded her arms, now outright glaring at Lyra. The girl had been seething the day it became known that Lyra had been admitted into the Hospital Wing. Apparently Robertsteen believed that Lyra had been intentionally trying to steal the spotlight away from her birthday.

'Well, at least she got into bed somehow. No need to pretend things like Valentine's doesn't exist just to spare her the realisation that no one wants to shag her.'

'Greengrass!'

'Come on Evans, it's what everyone's thinking,' Greengrass snapped, all pretence now abandoned.

'No doubt, that's why her parents threw her out – her father probably found out how bad she was in bed.'

'Not that Sirius would be like that, he could make bricks shake,' sighed one of the others, Tammy or something.

'Or even Remus. He's always so quiet – and you know it's always the quiet ones you've got to watch for. I bet he's an animal in bed,' Robertsteen goaded, relishing what she was doing to Lyra.

Lyra's jaw was tight, her fists clenched firmly at her sides and for a moment, Lily was actually a little bit frightened of her. Something about the way Lyra was standing there, she exuded danger. Unfortunately, Greengrass and her cronies failed to notice just how much of a reaction they'd conjured from the dark-haired girl.

Greengrass opened her mouth, but this time Lily wasn't going to let her make things worse.

Grabbing a hold of Lyra's shoulder, Lily steered her away. 'I'll be sure to give that a bunch of thought, Greengrass.' Lily threw every ounce of sarcasm into her voice as she called over her shoulder.

Having achieved their desired effect, the Ravenclaws quickly moved on, leaving Lily to deal with the aftermath.

'Don't listen to them. Honestly, I've always known that they were horrible, but really, this time they've gone too far! I have half a mind to report them to Flitwick. Actually, I might just go back there and give them all a detention, myself! You shouldn't listen to them, what do they know. They're just irresponsible, immature little -'

'Lily!'

It was the closest Lily had ever seen Lyra to losing her temper. She was so caught off guard by the dark-haired girl's snap that she dropped her hand from her shoulder and instinctively took a step back.

'I appreciate the sentiment,' Lyra said, regaining her usual calm, 'but perhaps it would be best if you kept your sympathy for someone actually needed it. Now if you'd excuse me.' She brushed past Lily and made her way out onto the grounds.

Lyra hadn't looked at Lily once, she'd kept her gaze downcast and pinned on what lay outside. Lily didn't miss the way her eyes seemed to glow and crackle slightly. It had been the only part of her that had seemed animated. The rest was irritatingly terse . . . as per usual.

Lily didn't even try to hide a huff.

'Frustrating, isn't it?'

Quickly looking around, Lily found her, leaning against the railing of the grand staircase, ankles and arms folded, bag slung over her shoulder and a baiting half smirk like always.

'Is she always like this when someone's trying to help?'

Marlene pushed off the railing, making her way over to Lily. 'When someone's trying to help _her_? Yes.'

Lily shook her head. 'I swear to Merlin. Sirius acts as if everything's a joke. _She_ rarely even cracks a smile these days. The both of them are always trying to pretend as if nothing ever gets to them.'

Marlene sighed wistfully. 'Yeah. Well, it's part of their charm, I suppose.'

Lily shot her an incredulous look.

Marlene shrugged. 'Charm – personality disorder.'

They moved into a corridor that had been filled with animated love hearts sporting large white fluffy wings. They flapped lazily through the air, gravitating to anyone who entered the corridor. When they were close enough they made low kissing noises around their victim's heads.

Lily batted one away, sending it hurtling through the air.

'I was hoping that Valentine's Day would help loosen her up a bit.'

'What? Why would it – Wait,' Lily grabbed hold of Marlene's arm as a rather large impossibility began to sink in. The blonde allowed herself to be turned to, a lazy, knowing smile was all she offered.

'You don't mean . . . Does Lyra have a date?!'

Marlene rolled her eyes. 'Really, Lilith, and I thought you were supposed to be the bright one around here.'

So deep was Lily's disbelief that she forgot to respond to the nickname. Lyra? A date? Lyra had a date? Lyra, who was forever guarded. Lyra, who never looked anyone in the eye. Lyra, who had never truly laughed, not in Lily's presence anyway. How could _that_ Lyra ever allow herself to go on a date when it was hard enough getting her to join in a conversation?

Marlene was revelling in Lily's confusion. She watched the fluttering hearts for a moment longer before resuming the path down the corridor, effectively pulling a still numb Lily along.

Lily dropped her hand from Marlene's shoulder after a few steps.

'It has been my suspicion these last few months,' Marlene started, 'that a romance has bloomed between one Miss Lyra Black and . . .'

Lily could have cursed her as she paused for dramatic effect.

'One Mister Remus Lupin.' Her grin turned feline as she took in Lily's shock.

As the initial shock wore off however, doubt flooded in. The two of them were rarely even ever alone in public together. Lily had never picked up on the slightest hint that anything but friendship lay between them.

'Think about it,' Marlene said. 'Their excuses to have some time alone together are clever, no doubt. But they're excuses nonetheless. You watch them from now on. I'm telling you.'

Lily was still sceptical to say the least. But if it were true . . . Did Sirius know? Did James? What was Lyra like behind closed doors? How long had it been going on for? Her head soon became too clouded with possibilities and questions . . . If it were true.

XXXXXXX

She didn't care what anyone said about her. They had free reign in that regard as far as she was concerned. She never thought they'd go so far as to bring Sirius or Remus into it though. It was a low person indeed who had to bring in others as weapons. None of them knew what they were talking about, Lily was right about that.

Lyra stormed past the Herbology greenhouses, not even glancing at them as she stormed towards the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. Robertsteen was pissed that she'd been sent to the Hospital Wing, well so was she.

She passed the tree line and was instantly enveloped in cold and shadows. She didn't give herself time to inspect her surroundings. They were trying to hide from her, but they couldn't hide from _her_ , no one could.

Arriving I a small clearing, she stopped. Looking around was pointless. She knew that they were here, at least three of them, surrounding her, all concealed behind the dense foliage and trees. Part of her wanted to scream at them, scream until she had no voice left to scream with. The larger part of her wanted to starve them out. They knew she was aware of them. And they also knew that if they were to try and walk away then she would simply follow them until frustration caused them to confront her.

Making up her mind, she dumped her bag onto the ground and waited, looking through the trees to where she knew one of them stood.

She didn't allow herself to ponder how much time passed while she stood there before one of them finally emerged from their hiding spot. It took a bit of effort to keep her expression level as she was confronted with them, forgetting how large and imposing they truly were.

As soon as the first had emerged, the other two followed. The sound of lightly padding hooves filled the clearing until they all stopped, surrounding her in a close circle.

'It is nice seeing you so well,' said the one who appeared first, in a pleasant, conversational tone. Unfortunately for them, she was not in a similar mood.

'Oh please, Dias, my looking well is to be in no way contributed to your _help_. Why give cryptic messages to Hagrid? Why not contact me directly? Because at it stands, your warning was pretty shit.'

'The heavens rarely speak clearly.'

'So, therefore, neither do you?'

The other centaurs pawed their hooves into the ground at her disrespectful tone, but she didn't much care. All of this could have been avoided if they weren't so intent on maintaining their air of secrecy.

'Interpreting the skies is a noble art, we are not obligated to share it's secrets.'

'Well then next time, how about simply keeping whatever you know to yourselves. Then you'll be able to avoid encounters such as these. Unless you like me intruding on your territory, Ronan.'

Ronan bristled. He made to step forward but was stopped by Dias' outstretched hand.

'Ronan speaks the truth.'

Lyra sighed, as usual it was proving quite pointless trying to communicate with these creatures. She looked towards the third centaur, who hadn't yet spoken. He was stoic, his high cheek bones tightened further as he clenched his jaw. It was he who she addressed next.

'Is there anything else you wish to tell me?'

He directed his gaze, and hers along with it, back to Dias, who had been watching the exchange with interest, now cleared his throat.

'Only that we have seen the skies fill with scarlet cloud. Mercury struggles, Pluto rises as Mars brightens.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Even now, the song of the stars starts to wane in Mars' shadow. We fear for the day it fails.'

Lyra could do nothing but blink at them. She should've known better than to ask these beings for sense. Giving a quick glance skywards she looked back to the one who had said nothing. She kept her mouth shut too, as she walked away from them, out of the clearing and back towards the tree line.

Pointless. Absolutely pointless. All they did was spit out useless, trivial nonsense about the skies and the heavens and then they chastised her when she couldn't figure out what they were blabbering on with in the first place.

Like every other time she'd attempted to talk to them, she swore that she would never try again. Centaurs loved being mysterious, and she just had no patience.

A yelp escaped her as a hand grasped hold of her arm, pulling her so her back collided with a tree trunk.

'What the hell are you doing here?!'

'Relax, it's alright.'

'Alright?' Remus was beside himself. 'You _do_ remember what happened the last time you were here, don't you?'

Lyra was sorely tempted to remind him that no, she did not remember what happened, but at the look on his face, she decided she better not make matters worse. She cupped Remus' face in her hands.

'I'm fine.' She leaned in and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. 'I'm fine.' She deepened the kiss before she realised. 'Were you following me?' She asked, pulling away.

'Well, what am I supposed to do when you go running off all the time?' Remus asked, slightly guiltily, his breath brushing against the skin of her cheek.

Grinning, she leaned in again, nibbling on his lower lip as she mumbled, 'You could always run off with me.'

His look turned wolfish as he returned her grin, pressing her further into the tree, his grip on her waist tightening.

XXXXXXX

'Honestly Lily, I don't know what to tell you. Sometimes with Lyra it's best just to leave her be for a while.'

Lily groaned. 'That's what Marlene said!'

Lily had been fuming over the incident with Lyra and Greengrass for two days. She'd felt only marginally better the morning after when Greengrass had tried to sneak into the Great Hall for breakfast trying to cover up the fact that all her hair had somehow disappeared overnight. Sirius had been grinning into his tea the entire time.

Meanwhile, Lily hadn't been able to keep from glancing between Lyra and Remus, who was sitting across the table, also trying to hide his amusement. Ever since she'd talked with Marlene, Lily had been going over in her mind, every time she'd ever seen Remus and Lyra together. It still seemed a bit unbelievable, but, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed, almost plausible.

After hours of sifting through every encounter since they'd all met, Lily had finally given up and sought Remus out, determined to get some answers. But, as soon as she'd found him, studying quietly in the library, her courage and frustration abandoned her, and all she could do was to come at the issue side on.

'Well, she'd know, she's closer to Lyra than anyone.' Remus pulled a book from the shelf he'd been looking through and walked back over to the table, opening it to the contents page as soon as he was seated. He was completely casual, completely relaxed. But Lily wasn't buying it for a second.

'Really?' She said slowly, trying to figure out the best way to trip him into giving her the truth.

'Well, apart from Sirius, but that's a given.' Running a finger down the length of the page, stopping when he'd found what he was looking for, he began flipping through the thick volume in search for the right page number.

'But she's close to other people, no?'

'Of course, there's you and Dorcas and James . . .'

'And you.'

She didn't mean for it to sound like an accusation, but as Remus stopped flicking through pages and looked up at her, she realised her mistake.

'Lily, is everything okay? It's just, you have a very James-like look on your face. Honestly, we were hoping that you'd be a positive influence on him, not the complete opposite.' He grinned at his own joke before returning to his book.

She could have gritted her teeth in frustration. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms as she tried not to glare at him.

XXXXX

'I mean, he completely evaded the topic!' Lily ground out that afternoon, throwing her bag down by her bed.

'Well of course he did, Lilith,' came Marlene's ever-so-composed reply. 'These are two very private people, and two who know how to keep things to themselves.'

The two girls paused to share a look, Lily wondered just how much Marlene knew about Remus' condition. No doubt the blonde was thinking similar thoughts about Lily.

* * *

 **Sorry about any mistakes, I was too impatient to proofread.**


	21. Chapter 20

**First of all SORRY. As a reader I hate waiting for a chapter update and as a writer I hate that it takes me long times such as this to get a chapter up. I will try to get back into the swing of things, but I can't make any promises.**

 **Because it's been so long, I thought I'd give you some recap snippets before the chapter rather than a flash forward.**

 **This chapter is a bit of a filler, just to catch us up on what's going on with the characters. Lots of fluffy stuff in here, more drama and mystery next chapter though!**

 **Hope you like it…**

* * *

' _Apart from being sorted into Gryffindor as well, Lyra doesn't even come close to being as noteworthy as your unfortunate brother . . . the Dark Lord has come across some information regarding her and is most eager in having it confirmed.'_

 _XX_

' _I can't understand it. She is healing faster than anyone I've ever seen.'_

 _XX_

' _Yes, our situation is unique, but that doesn't mean that it has anything to do with Dark Magic.'_

 _XX_

' _You may have tricked me once before with your ability to find loopholes in the dealings you conduct . . .' Walburga turned to look at the elderly witch again . . . 'You once told me that there would be a price to be paid for your services . . . Has the price been paid?'_

 _XX_

 _The woman raised a thick eyebrow, looking Sirius up and down slowly, her grip on his wrist never slackening. 'Pity,' she muttered. 'I get the scabbard but not the blade, how disappointing.' She looked at him again. 'But what a fine scabbard it is.'_

 _And then she was pulling him with a strength that momentarily stunned him._

 _XX_

 _What Remus wouldn't give to be frozen in this moment forever. From the snowflakes falling gently, to the soft breeze swirling around them, to Lyra underneath him, her hands in his hair. It was perfection, totally, completely._

 _XX_

 _With one more almighty tug, Lyra momentarily broke free of her mother's hold. She only just managed to grab hold of Sirius's hand for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough._

 _The burning sensation from before came back with a vengeance and rolled from her fingertips in warm, powerful waves into Sirius' own hand._

 _He could still feel the heat that had washed through him at her touch and the horror he'd felt soon after when he realised what she'd done._

 _XX_

 _They were grey, stuck somewhere between light and darkness, but she would allow herself to be smothered by the light and she would be glad for it._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was moments like these, the moments just before the dawning of reality, just before the illusion of the previous night would shatter, the memory of it nothing more than a blurred reflection in an unloved mirror, yes it was the moments before all of that, those were the moments she loved. And, even though she knew it wouldn't work, that it was pointless to hope for anything else, every time she saw those moments fading, she would try as desperately as she could, to hold on.

But like the weak early morning sun, barley making itself known through the gathering clouds that glided through the window, warming her bare shoulder and illuminating every scar on his chest, this feeling, this utter contentment, stolen from someone else's story, would fade eventually.

Because her story didn't involve lazy Saturday morning's, it didn't include him, or anyone like him, it couldn't. Because her story was a cautionary one.

 _Keep your head down, girl. And don't speak!_ The words spoken to her by her mother were ones she had so long tried to forget, to ignore, but whether she liked the woman or not, this had been the rule to which Lyra had always lived by.

She had to.

A couple of weeks of uninterrupted peace couldn't make her forget that there were still dangers out there. And it certainly didn't make her forget that a lot of those dangers were coming after her.

She'd always struggled with sides.

She didn't seem to see the point in them. Mostly everyone seemed to only think about themselves first and everyone else second, and her least of all. In the end, she didn't think it'd really matter what side she was apart of. She would lose in the end. She shuddered to think just about how much.

The chest she'd been resting her head on broke from it's steady deep rhythmic breathing. As it shifted, the scars shone brighter. The sacrifice for simple times. She found herself smiling softly at it.

Yes, she supposed there were a few reasons why one side had always remained more appealing.

The scar caught the sunlight again, and she didn't fight the temptation as she started to trace it, feeling the muscles underneath seemed to move in time with her fingers.

Let Lily and Marlene keep their curiosity, let Sirius and the others keep their secrecy, their feigned ignorance, let them keep it, just so she could keep moments like this.

She followed the scar until there was nothing but a plain of unmarred skin, she now traced veins and the curve of his neck, her eyes trailing ahead until she met barely opened eyelids, the golden hazel peeking through.

It still disarmed her, when he smiled like that, that he was smiling at _her_.

'G'morning.'

She smiled further at his mumbled voice, replying to it with a kiss to the scar she'd been navigating.

'What time is it?'

And then the moment was over, the air around her shattering, the foggy reflection coming into focus before it would fade entirely.

Suppressing a sigh, she shifted onto her back, his arm coming under her shoulders before she could sink into the mattress. She looked up into the ceiling, which reflected the pink and oranges of the early morning sky outside, an idea they'd stolen from the Great Hall.

She didn't want to answer his question. Because whatever time it was, it meant that it was time to leave this place, and go back, back to classes, back to her life, and she would be forced to leave this stranger's beautiful life here, in the confines of the Room of Requirement.

'Time to go.'

She was almost off the bed, when he grabbed her arm pulling her gently back into him, 'Hey.'

And then his lips were on hers, and she beamed, moving to straddle him.

No, she never wanted to leave, even if it was a dream. She never wanted to move away from his hands in her hair, his tongue in her mouth, him moving beneath her. She never wanted to wake up one day to find that she'd imagined what the roughness of his skin felt like, or how a simple look from him could relieve her, just for a moment, of everything else that she had yet to face, everything she had faced. Or how they could convince the other that they were normal, and they deserved what they were offering each other.

'Happy Valentines,' he murmured into the skin on her neck as she finally left the bed.

XXXXXXXXX

As always, they left separately. Remus headed back to the boy's dormitories and Lyra made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, positive that she was going to be the first there.

It was the first time in weeks that her cheeks had hurt from smiling. She knew they were young, it was something she pointed out to Remus every time he was being unbearably grim, but the things that they'd gone through in their short life made them much older, older than anyone perhaps knew.

If only every moment could be like those from this morning. Never being one to fall for those pretty stories about the hero and their damsel, she wasn't naïve enough to really think it could happen, the happy ending, the sort of love story girls like Greengrass surely believed in. But sometimes it was nice to pretend. If just for the short walk back to reality.

A sharp, burning-like pain tore through her right wrist. Not being able to suppress the surprised gasp that escaped, she grabbed it. All illusions of peace splintered. It took a moment for the pain to subside, it tingled strangely, at first it was unpleasant, painful, but now, as it waned, it was as if it was being pulled. When she inspected the area, however, there was nothing there. No reason for the sudden outburst.

Unless . . .

Her suspicions were cut down as a rush of cool air swept through her veins, effectively dousing the lingering pain in her wrist. She fought a shiver as she turned, scanning the area. But there was no one, not a soul, living or dead in the hall with her. She was alone save for the flames flickering dully within the sconces.

But then there was another rush, this time accompanied by a swell of panic that wasn't entirely her own. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw something, a person. Someone, walking away from her, entering a side corridor. Someone tall, in a long travelling cloak of deep purple, someone with long, dark hair. Someone she didn't recognise in the slightest.

They rounded the corner and Lyra was moving without thinking, determined, for some reason unknown to her, to catch them. With every step closer to the corridor, the louder her heart beat sounded. It took over everything, fast catching up with her footsteps. It was a drum within her as she finally rounded the corner.

But the long, straight, barren corridor was completely, frustratingly, empty.

XXXXX

He'd woken with a jolting rush of panic. Whether it was from the dormitory door opening, or the dream he was having, he wasn't sure. A second later, however, a third possibility presented itself. His wrist was on fire. The memory of a pock-faced old witch still burning in the lids of his eyes.

His wince must have shown as Remus, who Sirius had no doubt was trying to get from the door he'd just opened to his bed with as little contact with Sirius as possible, paused half way there.

'Are you alright?'

All Sirius could do was offer a tight nod and hope that it was enough.

Eager to return them to the awkwardness of before, and in a desperate attempt to distract Remus from Sirius' obvious discomfort, he asked with a hint of resentment, 'Where've you been?'

Remus coughed quietly, resuming his path to his bed. 'Nowhere . . . went for a walk,' he mumbled as he went.

Sirius nodded absentmindedly, lowering himself back into his bed, kneading his wrist all the while.

They both chose to accept the lie and let the other carry on with their own concerns.

XXXXXX

A mess of newspapers strewn across the table top greeted her when she finally arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast. She'd spent another twenty minutes wondering the passageways – including the hidden ones – and corridors and rooms on the seventh floor close to where she'd seen the mystery figure. Grinding teeth and a shortened temper were all she received for her efforts.

In the end she was questioning herself as to whether or not it had been real in the first place. After all, it was just a glimpse, less than a couple of seconds. She'd confronted her panic upon realising that she had started to see hallucinations in the weeks before she'd collapsed in the forest. It was then that she'd stopped, almost mid-step, in the middle of a poorly lit corridor and slowly passed her hand over her stomach. There was no sign of any infection. The scars had healed over, the pain had ceased, and the flesh surrounding them was healthy. No, for better or worse, she could dismiss that as the cause.

She did not glance around the Hall as she took a seat half way down. She did not care who else was here, or who wasn't. Her good mood from this morning had all but disappeared, it held on like the last petal held onto a dying stem.

Absentmindedly, she pulled a paper towards her, opening it but for the most part, ignoring it. What it contained would be exactly the same as what it had contained yesterday, and the day before that, and the one before that. Horribleness, despair. It was always the same. Those who had taught themselves to hope were always the first ones to be pulled under by it.

Her eyes may have fallen on a long list stating the names of those who had thus far this week disappeared, her mind took nothing in. Who in the castle was that tall? Who in the castle had hair that long? It hadn't appeared as if she were walking aimlessly, each step had been deliberate, almost pre-planned. As if they had known that Lyra would see and would want to follow. But why would she feel the compulsion to do that. She'd never felt what she had felt in that moment. And it frightened her.

She jumped slightly as Lily huffed, dropping into the seat opposite her.

The redhead didn't say anything, but simply looked at Lyra with such an intensity that she succeeded in warding off the wondering lady.

After a very uncomfortable amount of time, Lyra gave in.

'What?'

Lily's gaze tightened somewhat, her brow following suit, the question burning in her eyes clear and loud.

Lyra, not keen on prompting an unwanted conversation, simply raised an eyebrow, calling Lily's bluff.

'Where were you?'

Damn.

'When?'

'Last night?'

Lyra could have smirked at the girl's efforts for her words to appear innocently conversational. Instead she feigned a bemused expression.

'Well, I spent a long time in the Library, and when Pince kicked me out I did a little more work in the Common Room before I went up to bed,' Lyra recalled, making everything sound as if it was completely normal and obvious. And she wasn't lying. Well, she wasn't lying about most of it anyway. She _had_ been in the Library until it closed, and then she had gone to the Common Room, but not to study, but to wait for Remus to return from his Prefect duties.

Now it was Lily's turn to raise an eyebrow.

'Your bed didn't look slept in this morning.'

'I've been practising with some simple household spells.' She made sure to show a hint of a grimace, the images conjured of her real memories involving similar simple household spells helping immensely.

Lily, looking slightly more desperate, cast a quick look around the Hall. 'You're here awfully early.'

'I – I couldn't sleep.' Lyra shuffled in her seat for added effect. Thankfully, she knew Lily's weakness all too well. Sympathy.

Maybe it made her a horrible person, for locating it and using it against her so quickly and so well. And maybe the absence of any real guilt made her a more horrible person still. But lack of guilt meant lack of hesitation. And lack of hesitation meant lack of suspicion. Which made her tactics worth it.

For that's what her world was. And it's what it would most likely only ever be. And whether it would break her, or all those around her – she would keep it that way.

XXX

The rest of breakfast had been a quiet one between the two girls. It livened up a bit when the boys joined them, James and Peter seemingly the only jovial ones amongst them.

Lyra tried not to make eye contact with anyone, despite the feeling of multiple sets of eyes she could feel on her. She kept to herself and her paper, mindlessly reading through from cover to cover until James and Lily announced that they were now leaving to spend the rest of the day on an 'overly romantic excursion to Hogsmeade which none other could ever hope to replicate'. . . or so James had put it.

Lyra waited until they had left the Great Hall before abandoning the paper and leaving the table.

She caught up to them just in time. James and Lily had almost made it to the castle doors, ready to leave and make their way down to Hogsmeade. The bitterly cold air from outside had forced it's way into the castle's Entrance Hall. The pleasant lull of the last few days had been replaced with howling winds, bringing snow and sleet and impenetrable grey skies.

The dismal weather forcing people to wait inside while the carriages were brought up and the fact that Valentine's Day meant more people leaving the castle, meant that Lyra had to squeeze through the thick crowd, wincing the whole time until she finally made it to the Head boy and girl.

'James!' Lyra called out to him when she spotted him through the throng. Lily was in the middle of pulling on a pair of bright red mittens when they stopped, turning to where Lyra emerged finally into the spot before them.

But instead of speaking, Lyra stood there, eyes flicking between Lily and James before finally settling on the latter. After a brief, imploring look, followed by another quick flick in Lily's direction, the red head finally seemed to get the message.

'I'll meet you by the staircase,' she said, somewhat uncertainly as she gave James' arm a quick squeeze and left, pushing her way through to the stairs.

James simply stood, puzzled, as Lyra watched Lily leave. There was no doubt in her mind that Lily had chosen the staircase so as to have a better vantage point to spy on their conversation.

'Can we?' Lyra asked, gesturing to a corridor leading off the Entrance Hall.

Nodding, James followed her through the amassing students and into the corridor.

They'd travelled a few meters in silence before Lyra stopped, James stopping with her.

'I'm ready to start trying again.'

She tried not to be too deterred when James' eyebrows rose. 'Are you sure? I mean . . .'

She shook her head. 'I'm fully recovered, I've settled down, and besides, NEWT's are just around the corner and I can't,' she stopped to swallow the images forming in her head, 'I can't let anything go wrong.'

James' face softened and she tried not to notice the pity in his eyes. 'Alright, if you're sure. We can start again on Monday after classes. But only if you're sure.'

'I'm absolutely sure. James, I don't know what I'll do if I fail the practical exams. I cannot stay at Hogwarts any longer.'

After a long look, James sighed before turning and making his way back to the Entrance Hall.

Lyra decided to take that as an agreement and followed him.

By the time they'd reached the Entrance Hall again they were walking beside one another once again. Still far enough away that no one would hear them talking, James stopped and searched the staircase. His mouth flickered up into a small smile when he spotted Lily about half way up. She was staring straight at them.

Without taking his eyes off her, he said, 'She's going to want to know what we were talking about.' He looked at Lyra expectantly.

Lyra chuckled. 'I'm not your master, James.' She wouldn't tell him what and what not to do, and she never would. 'It's not like my poor wand work has slipped past her notice anyway.' Still smirking slightly, Lyra turned back into the corridor, ready to leave James to his day.

'And what if she asks about something else?'

Lyra turned. James, his back now fully to Lily, wore an expression Lyra had come to know as his big-brother face. It was the expression he wore whenever he felt like she, or Marlene, were being threatened in some way. His internal need to protect was his strongest, and one of his most annoying, traits. Strangely enough, it always made Lyra want to burst into laughter.

He closed the distance between them to a few feet. 'She knows, her and Marlene, about you and . . .' He paused, casting a quick glance around and lowering his head, 'about you and Moony,' he said quietly. 'Well, they suspect anyway.'

Lyra couldn't help but smile. 'I know. Remus told me that Lily practically interrogated him in the library the other day. And she just did the same to me earlier at breakfast. She's not nearly as subtle as she probably thinks she is.'

James wanted to laugh along with her as well, she knew he did, but something held him back. 'What if she asks about that.'

Lyra paused, all humour gone. She wanted to tell him, in an offhand sort of way, that she was not his master, like she'd done so freely just now. But she couldn't get the words to form.

'You don't want them to know.' It wasn't a question. He took a step forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. 'Lyra, you know that I've always got you. I'll always protect your secrets. Always. But, you're happy, being with him makes you happy. I know this, I've seen it. And all I'm trying to say is that there are people who would be gladdened by the fact that you've found something. That's all.'

She let herself be pulled into a hug, a hug the likes of which she'd rarely partaken in, one of friendship and security and warmth. She had to blink herself back into the present and found that James had almost reached the end of the corridor again. Before he entered the Entrance Hall, he turned towards her.

'Oh and tell Padfoot that I want the map back! He's been hogging it and Moony and I need it.' He waved, turned and was lost in the noise.

Ordinarily Lyra would have scoffed at the trivial things those boys concerned themselves with. She had no doubt that James and Remus _needed_ the map for a practical joke of some such. And ordinarily, she would have turned and wondered the rest of the halls and passageways until she found herself somewhere familiar, scoffing all the while. But this was no ordinary day and instead she found herself rooted to the spot, staring at the place James had disappeared and scolding herself for not thinking of it sooner.

She needed to get her hands on that stupid map.

XXX

'What was that all about?' was the first thing he heard when he was back within ear shot of Lily.

'Nothing,' he said, not noticing that he ran a hand through his hair as he spoke.

Lily, however, did. And to think she spent years thinking that he ruffled his hair for attention. She'd almost laughed out loud the day she realised that he didn't even realise that he did it half the time. But it was moments like these where she was forever thankful for putting it all together.

'It didn't look like nothing.' Trying to keep the accusation out of her voice was exceptionally difficult.

As they headed back down the stairs towards the front doors, Lily spared a glance to the corridor Lyra had taken James down. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. She shouldn't be jealous, James had spent the last few years proving that she would never have any reason to think that he'd ever betray her like that.

But, the more her stomach turned, the more she came to realise that she _was_ jealous. Not because she thought that there was something untoward going on between the two, but because there was _something_ at all, something that Lily had never experienced with the girl.

They'd shared a room for going on seven years and while they'd had their fair share of talks – mostly about school work – Lyra was still a complete mystery.

And yet here she was, dragging Lily's boyfriend down dark corridors.

They'd left the castle and were on the path that led down to Hogsmeade before Lily realised that James still hadn't answered her.

'Well?' She poked him in the ribs for good measure.

Jumping, James shot her an indignant look, apparently not appreciating her raised eyebrows.

Her annoyance mounted as he rolled his eyes, grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her from the path and the scores of students still travelling down it.

James didn't let go of her until they were a polite distance away.

He lowered his voice. 'Look, it's nothing, really. I just – I'm just helping her practice her wand work, that's all.'

She wasn't sure she'd managed to keep the shock look from her face. This definitely wasn't what she'd been expecting. Truth be told, she never imagined Lyra asking anyone for help ever.

'You're _tutoring_ her? For how long?!'

'I don't know . . . since the start of sixth year I guess.'

Lily's jaw fell. 'You've been tutoring her for over a year!' She ignored James who was trying to get her to lower her voice. 'How have I not known about this? Why didn't you tell me!'

By now James looked positively sheepish. 'Well, it wasn't really my place, was it. Lyra's a very private person.'

Lily scoffed, 'Well yeah, that I knew.'

'Look, let's not make this a big thing. And please, don't let it get out.'

'No, no, of course not,' Lily said with a wave of her hand. Still processing, she allowed James to take her hand again and steer her back onto the path.

Lily looked over to him. He seemed to know Lyra so well, he tutored her, hell, she was even living at his house now . . . in that moment, Lily would've bet anything that James knew the truth about Lyra and Remus, and if they were really seeing each other. From the way he was avoiding her eye though, she knew it would be pointless to try and question him about it. One confession was enough for her today.

She'd just have to try for another one later.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Sirius loved Valentines Day. Ever since he became old enough to realise the benefits of this particular day, he'd never looked back. Free chocolate, free booze – if he managed to sweet talk the young barmaid in the Three Broomsticks enough – and free, no strings attached girls.

He'd managed to tailor his reputation over the years so that when this day, his last Valentine's Day at Hogwarts finally came, he'd be able to do what he wanted and not have to worry about any messy, drawn out conversations with anyone about 'what this meant'. And it had paid off.

It wasn't even midday and he'd already been through two pretty heavy snog session with two separate girls, with a couple of very heavy-handed suggestions of something more to come later. And the one just now, with Pattinson Loche, he hadn't even planned. He'd just been on his way to the Entrance Hall when she pulled him into an empty classroom, not even bothering with an explanation.

He stumbled out ten minutes later, sending Pattison a wink as he did so.

Yep, he loved Valentine's Day.

Pulling out his wand, he conjured up the time to float in front of him. He had to hurry if he was going to meet Heather Davies at the tea shop in Hogsmeade.

He was a corridor away from the Grand Staircase when a familiar thrill went through him and he felt himself grin.

Perfect.

'All alone? On today of all days? My condolences McKinnon.' He bowed mockingly as they passed each other.

'I'd save your condolences, Black,' she said, coming to a slow stop. 'I dare say by the time today's over, you'll be needing to hand them out to quite a few people.'

As always, her dry humour wasn't lost on him as it was on most others. He always had to supress a laugh when he watched someone laugh cluelessly along when they thought she was paying out compliments when in fact she was dishing out insults instead. A fact he never let her know about, however.

She was still smirking to herself as she went to keep walking. But Sirius had just started revelling in the thrill, the one he got whenever they crossed paths, and he enjoyed it far too much to let it die so quickly.

As she took another step, he wracked his brain for something to hit her with. The thought came to him with a wicked grin. He took off after her.

'I have a theory.'

She snorted. 'Well this should be mildly entertaining.'

'I think you're jealous.'

'Well of course I am.'

Sirius stopped dead. His heart stumbling over his stomach. She was . . . She was what?

'I'm jealous of the people who get to the pancakes in the Great Hall before they run out every morning. I'm jealous that Nifflers are so good at finding nice things and that they don't have to give them up.' She'd stopped too and turned to face a still gawping Sirius.

'I'm jealous of a lot of things and a lot of people, Black. And while I'm sure that you pride yourself on making your way onto all types of lists, alas this is not one of them.' She smiled mockingly and patted him on the arm. 'But by all means, keep doing what you're doing, and you might just make it onto one more list.' She made to walk away again. 'Like the ward list at St Mungos,' she mumbled under her breath.

Sirius always seemed to forget that the thrill was almost always followed by annoyance.

Reaching forward, he grabbed hold of her arm, swinging her around to face him. he felt another rush at seeing a little shock flash across her face.

'Why don't you just admit it,' he said.

'Admit what?'

'That you really are jealous.'

'I thought we already covered this.'

'I wouldn't blame you if you were, you know.'

'Of course, you wouldn't.'

Sirius took a step closer, he could see the shades of dark blue in her eyes.

'Don't tell me you've never thought about it.'

'You have?'

'I'm not going to deny it.'

'That's quite narcissistic y'know, thinking about having sex with yourself.'

'You're funny.'

'I know.'

An echoing laugh tore down the corridor. It might as well have been a shockwave and it wasn't until they jumped apart that Sirius realised how close they had been.

He hated the fact that McKinnon managed to compose herself before he did.

'Nice chat, Black.' Another pat on the arm and she was off again.

As if knowing that he was still rooted to the spot, she called over her shoulder. 'Better not keep her waiting!'

He blinked and realised he was inside, watching her walk away. He blinked again and realised that he should actually be outside. And just like that the encounter was over. The thrill didn't go away for another hour.

XXXXX

'Is their anything else Tam can get for you, Mister Remus?'

'Thanks Tam, but I think everything's perfect. You've done a great job,' Remus said, standing back and giving a final, sweeping inspection of the table. He'd chosen to set the table at the end, furthest from the main kitchen.

It was a simple setting, a small bouquet of short stemmed wildflowers sitting in a vase on the edge of the table, two tealight candles sat burning, flickering softly. And like a hum in the background, the various sounds being made by the house elves bustling around the kitchen at the other end of the room.

The best part was that James had agreed to help him transfigure the painting to the entrance so that anyone who tried to get in by tickling the pear wouldn't be able to. Now, as soon as Remus cast the right spell, the painting would change into a simple sconce – James wanted to charm it so that it yelled at anyone who approached it. Thankfully Remus managed to convince him not to.

Movement at the kitchen entrance had Tam scurrying off to join in helping the rest of the house elves in the kitchen and had Remus standing up straighter, smiling broader and breathing quicker. Taking out his wand, he cast the spell non-verbally as soon as he saw the entrance open.

She didn't notice him at first. So regular was her routine that she hadn't even looked up from the floor as she started making her way over to the kitchen. Panicking slightly, Remus gave a not-so-subtle cough.

Her head snapped towards him. Her eyes wide, irises glistening, molten in the firelight. Her entire being rigid.

And in the flicker of a flame, she softened. And his breathing, quickened still, but this time from the smile she sent him.

'What's this?' She said, walking over to him, taking in the table.

Remus rested his hands on her waist as soon as she was close enough. 'I just wanted to have dinner with you.'

She pursed her lips in amusement. 'We could have done that upstairs.'

'Ah, but I knew that you wouldn't be eating upstairs tonight.' Remus had long since noticed that whenever the Great Hall was predicted to be fuller than normal, Lyra would discretely retreat to the kitchens to have dinner. 'And besides, I didn't just want to sit next to you, making small talk and politely ignoring you.' Remus leant in to press a kiss to her cheek. 'I wanted to have dinner with _you_.'

Lyra's smile grew into that breathtaking look of delight he never saw enough. And this time she kissed him, tenderly, deeply, of words she no longer needed to say. And Remus felt his heart glow in his chest.

As they pulled apart, he was somewhat surprised to see her grinning mischievously as she peered towards the ceiling.

'This is going to send Lily and Marlene insane.'

* * *

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